Daughter of Atlas
by Sayle
Summary: When the Odyssey is flung from her universe into another the crew and SG1 just want to get back home. But when the damaged Odyssey becomes a prize to be had by both the Cylons and the Colonials, getting home may be the least of their problems. SG1/nBSG
1. To the Asgard We Will Go

**Disclaimer: I do not own SG1/SGA or nBSG.**

**When I first wrote Legacy of Kobol I hadn't the faintest idea of what I was going to do past the first few chapters. It was as the story began to evolve that I realised it was going to be harder and harder to reconcile the two universes and maintain any real sort of drama. Then a nasty computer crash took out the next chapter and part of the chapter after that, and when I got a new computer the inspiration had faded. So this is the rewrite. Different premise entirely, more challenges besides 'cultural' issues, and a real sense of danger. I hope.  
**

001100010010011110100001101101110011

The mood on the _Odyssey_ was expectant and curious. The Asgard had invited them to Orilla, a whole galaxy away. Actually, they had more specifically invited the humans and their ship. They had been oddly insistent about the ship part. The IOA assumed it was because the _Odyssey_ was powered by a ZPM – a zero point module. The potent energy source was both rare and valuable beyond measure. It could be tapped dry eventually, but prior to that it could quite happily provide power to the entire continental United States for over a century – or more. That was even counting the loss from poor efficiency.

Had the invitation come from any other race the IOA might have been suspicious. But the Asgard were beyond reproach. Where the Goa'uld had used advanced technology to subjugate humanity on worlds through the galaxy the Asgard had protected them, enforcing the Protected Planets Treaty. Where the Tollan had refused to help Earth with even simple defence the Asgard had upgraded shielding and weapons aboard the _Prometheus_ when Earth had begun to reach for the stars. Where other aliens would have nothing to do with the fledging Tau'ri, people of Earth, the Asgard acknowledged a debt and great potential.

The Asgard were clones of clones of clones, and the genetic degradation was as a result slowly killing them, a deadline in the future when there would be no new bodies to accept the consciousness of a dead Asgard. It was in humanity that they hoped to find an answer to the problem. They could have pursued more invasive, destructive routes to the answer they craved, but the code of ethics they followed as a collective never faltered.

General Jack O'Neill considered Thor, Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet, a friend. The small, grey-skinned and black eyed race that had influenced the depiction of Roswell aliens had an implacable strength about them that he admired, despite the frailty of their bodies. More importantly they lacked the arrogance that most species with superior technology possessed when dealing with Earth – which had distinctly less technological advancement to speak of.

They had even turned to Earth to solve problems in the past. In truth the first time had been an accident, when Thor's vessel had been boarded by machine creatures known as Replicators. The spider-like machines had only one directive, and that was to create more of themselves, and damn anything in the way. When faced with the argument that they were no more evil than a computer virus Jack O'Neill had responded with calling them a really _evil_ virus.

Suffice it to say preventing the ship from landing on Earth had been more of a survival effort than actual altruism. But the effectiveness of simple 'primitive projectile weapons' had struck the Asgard as exactly the kind of thinking they needed. From there the Asgard as a whole had rapidly grown to appreciate that thinking when saving the ship of their Supreme Commander snowballed into saving their homeworld.

Jack O'Neill himself was well known among them as the human who was a step towards solving the problem of genetic degradation because of his representation of an evolutionary step forward. He was more importantly known among them for rescuing Thor – twice. He had developed the anti-Replicator weapon that had allowed them to finally purge their home galaxy of Ida of the mechanical menace. Admittedly he had the whole database of Ancient knowledge in his head at the time, and they _were_ the most advanced race to ever inhabit the stars, but still…

Hell, they had even named the first of their most advanced warship class after him. O'Neill didn't know if they followed the same tradition as Earth had by naming a class of ship after the first produced ship, but if they did he wouldn't be surprised. The fact was he really liked the Asgard, and the Asgard really liked him. So when the invitation had been received O'Neill had quickly pulled rank and replaced General Landry as the resident representative on the trip.

O'Neill shifted in his seat and looked about the bridge as the crew went about their duties. The _Odyssey_ had been in service for around a year now, and it had been through enough scuffles to come out the other end with a fully capable crew. They might not have been through hell and back, but they hadn't been taking a stroll in the park either. The crew moved about, some carrying clipboards or tablets, taking notes from some of the panels and consoles arrayed around the back of the bridge and then moving off again. Occasionally two would exchange notes or have a brief conversation before moving on again.

"Like buzzing, buzzing bees..." O'Neill muttered under his breath as he ran his fingertips over the buttons set into the armrest of the command chair. Most of them were intercom switches of some kind, although he had to admit he didn't know the purpose of all of them. He held out hope that one of them was some sort of seat warmer, but he somehow doubted it.

"Sir?" O'Neill looked up and his gaze settled on the seat to his right where Major Marks sat, looking at him quizzically. The Major had served tours of duty on the _Daedalus_ and was generally recognised as the best navigator and weapons officer that was familiar with the BC304 line of ships, which was why O'Neill had poached him from the _Daedalus_ itself while it had been resupplying over Earth. He had got an overly polite call from Colonel Caldwell over the whole affair. Actually, it was borderline insubordinate. "Sir, we're about to drop out of hyperspace."

"Thank you, Major," O'Neill said quietly before shifting in his seat again, barely paying attention as Daniel entered the bridge. Daniel Jackson, resident archaeologist, language expert and 'we come in peace' guy. He could read and speak thirty-two languages, although Jack wasn't quite sure if that was all together or each. He wouldn't be surprised if most of them were dead, though.

"I heard we were about to drop out of hyperspace," Daniel offered by way of explanation.

"Yup," O'Neill confirmed. "Let's see what Thor has to say." As if on cue the blue tunnel of hyperspace dissolved into normal space, the stars of a foreign galaxy shining against the gray hull of the Earth-built _Odyssey_. In the center of the observation window Orilla hung like a green and blue jewel, around which white ships orbited and moved to and fro with an odd grace. "Now that is impressive," O'Neill murmured.

Several of the white ships broke off quickly, moving on an intercept course. As they drew closer it became apparent they were larger than the _Odyssey_ by at least an order of magnitude, the alien and curved shapes of the Asgard vessels looking oddly daunting compared to the blocky and in comparison ugly for of the _Odyssey_.

Measuring at around 400 meters long the _Daedalus-_class was a far sleeker design that the prototype _Prometheus_, with the ship flanked by two hanger pods which each contained eight of the F302 space superiority fighters, which were themselves a blend of alien and human technology. Vertical-launch missile tubes were positioned at the front of the ship, while railguns were tactically located over most of the ship's vital surfaces, providing 360 degree coverage of the surrounding space. Few were the places that the _Odyssey _could not strike as, though her advantage was in a direct run at the enemy where she could bring all her weapons to bear.

The Asgard motherships seemed to smoothly slide to a halt off the bow of the _Odyssey_, a musical hum rising into a chime as light filled the bridge in the telltale sound of an Asgard transporter, the light from the beaming technology fading and leaving behind one of diminutive aliens. O'Neill recognised him immediately. "Thor, buddy!" he said cheerfully, rising from the command chair with arms outstretched for a moment in a wave of greeting.

"Sir," Marks said quietly. "There were over a hundred beaming signatures." As if to confirm the words of the Major several Asgard entered the bridge and began to interact with the various consoles against the wall. O'Neill turned a questioning glance on Thor.

"O'Neill," Thor said in that oddly resonant voice which all Asgard had. "We invited you here to upgrade your ship with the latest Asgard technology. Weapons, shields, propulsion. In addition we are installing our entire knowledge base aboard your vessel." There was a moment of stunned silence. Marks looked between both Doctor Jackson and O'Neill in helpless confusion, but neither of them seemed capable of speech.

"Thor," Daniel eventually spoke, voice almost cracking for a second before he recovered. "We appreciate this but..._why?_" The Asgard tilted its head to regard Jackson for a moment. O'Neill seemed to still be a bit zoned out. Even the Asgard would never give away weapons and technology on that sort of scale without there being something big happening. But still...all that technology...for the SGC and IOA this was the equivalent of giving candy to a baby, then buying it the candy shop.

"We are dying." All the elation instantly vanished. The Asgard couldn't just die. They were the Asgard. They had fought through so much, done so much. It just wasn't _right._

"But..." Jack trailed off for a second. "Thor, you said you were taking steps to cure the genetic problem..." The Asgard Supreme Commander turned to once again regard the General.

"We believed we were, but an experiment has rendered the genetic structure of the entire Asgard race unstable." For a moment O'Neill was speechless. He didn't even want to know the specifics, of how something so monumentally disastrous had occurred.

"Our clones are no longer capable of holding our consciousnesses," the Asgard continued. "As such, we have decided to destroy ourselves rather than risk our technology falling into the hands of those who would misuse it." There was another moment of silence.

"And you're giving it to _us?_" It didn't help that Daniel's voice held a note of incredulity in it, and Jack shot him a glare. But he did have a point. It was exactly the opposite of usual. Earth finds advanced aliens. Aliens don't want to share technology with irresponsible humans...and the most advanced aliens of them all were just giving it away to them.

"You are the Fifth Race." Thor decreed, and O'Neill knew instantly what he was talking about. The Asgard had been part of an alliance of four Great Races. The Nox were pacifists, but incredibly advanced and universally respected for their neutrality and impartiality. Well, respected by anybody who cared. The Furlings had never been encountered besides some far-flung examples of technology, although Jack had his suspicions. The third race was the Asgard themselves, and the fourth were the Alterans, also known as the Ancients, the oldest of them all who had ruled the galaxy when the others were young. Creators of the Stargates, Atlantis, ZPMs...

When O'Neill had first met the Asgard face to face one of them had said humanity had great potential, and might yet become the Fifth Race, the fifth species to achieve the level of technology and moral code the Asgard believed to be required of them to take a place in the great alliance. Of course they hadn't meant in just under a decade...

"You are the descendents and inheritors of the Ancients," Thor said. "Now you are our inheritors as well. You carry the legacy of the Asgard race. Our technology, history and culture are all preserved aboard this vessel." Thor blinked slowly, turning his gaze back to O'Neill from where it had been resting on Daniel. "There were large elements of the Asgard high council that opposed this action."

Jack opened his mouth to say something when a muted but distinctive screaming noise made him jerk. His eyes flew towards the observation window where he could see the Asgard battleships playing rays of energy over the _Odyssey_, the slightly transparent white beams looking similar to the beams that had simply disintegrated Goa'uld pyramids into nothing on one of his early missions. He watched in something approaching horror as a long section of the outer hull ceased to exist, revealing what looked like a power conduit.

"Thor?" he asked helplessly, turning to the diminutive Asgard. The alien blinked at him with that infuriating calm with an expression O'Neill could only translate as 'what are you worried about?'.

"The motherships are merely making alterations to your ship's power system," Thor explained, as if trying to talk to a child. The way he said it made Jack feel a flush of guilt for even thinking that something bad was happening. In his defence he didn't really _think _it think it, just...think it at the back of his mind.

"Sorry," he offered lamely, and turned to look out the window again as more and more beams of light radiated out from the graceful ships hovering about the _Odyssey_, deconstructing the hull to gain more direct access to vital systems. He tuned out the sombre discussion Sam and Daniel were having with Thor, trying not think much about the impending death of an entire species. He failed.

001100010010011110100001101101110011

The modifications to the _Odyssey_ had barely been complete when five Ori motherships had dropped out of hyperspace. Maybe they had followed them somehow. Maybe they had always known about the Asgard and just chosen to ignore them. But they were there, and the Asgard fled in beams of light as their transport systems whisked them away to the planet of graceful white spires below. Jack O'Neill hadn't even got to say goodbye.

The _Odyssey_ fled. Ori motherships were for all intents and purposes invincible. Shields that had never been penetrated by conventional weapons, a beam weapon that smashed almost instantly through shields and all of it created in the name of a genocidal crusade to unite the galaxy. The destruction of Orilla as iridescent clouds of energy blossomed forth from the surface and the planet cracked destroyed three of them, the massive energy output severely taxing the shields of the advancing Ori ships before country-sized chunks of the planet's crust impacted them. There was no way any ship could survive that, no matter how effective the shielding. The other two motherships pursued the _Odyssey_ as it tried to get far enough away from the disruptive effect of the planet's destruction to open a hyperspace window.

Jack O'Neill had just watched an infinitely noble race die and the Ori try to pick over the remains. He wanted to take a shot at them, and they couldn't leave until the disruption the destruction of the Asgard homeworld had caused in subspace faded, as an attempt to activate the hyperdrive mere seconds ago had proved. "Major Marks," he said quietly, looking to his right where one of the two main bridge consoles was manned by the Major. "Let's see what these new Asgard weapons can do. Bring us about and fire at will." Marks nodded and made the appropriate course changes, bringing weapons online.

So the _Odyssey_ gracefully banked around and made a half-somersault above the Ori ship, blue beams of plasma screaming out of the Asgard emitters mounted on the upper hull. The blue rays struck the white shields of Ori vessel, which flared and billowed around the points of impact. Once, twice, three times. The _Odyssey_ broke off the somersault in a sharp turn downwards, the ship righting itself in relation to the Ori ship as it flew overhead again, this time firing from emitters on the lower hull.

The beams fired twice more in quick succession, this time hitting the hull itself of the gigantic ship as the shields buckled and failed. Massive explosions burst from the points of contact as the _Odyssey_ flew above the damaged ship. Three more shots, this time to the thicker and more substantial areas, reached out and sliced into the previously impregnable warship. The Ori vessel seemed to slow as the engine output flickered and failed, unable to keep up with the increasing speed of the Tau'ri ship because of the battle damage. Then the reactor went critical and it broke apart in a flash of light, only the toughest alloys making up the armour of the ship failing to disintegrate and instead bursting outwards in fragments the size of large buildings, and some the size of small skyscrapers.

The victory that would usually have been a cause for celebration this time seemed hollow as the _Odyssey_ finally engaged her hyperdrive and vanished, fleeing from the destruction of Orilla and the remaining Ori ship. The Asgard were dead, but they had given Earth hope.

001100010010011110100001101101110011

So now Jack O'Neill sat in the command chair of the most formidable vessel at Earth's command, the seat of the legacy of the most powerful race in two galaxies, and one of the few hopes against the Ori. It had been two days since they had left Orilla, and with both the Asgard modifications and core along with the ZPM aboard they were already back in the Milky Way and on the home stretch.

Then Carter frowned, and it all went downhill from there. She was sitting at the right console, which had privileged access to most ship systems. Usually Major Marks, the navigator, sat there, but he had been relegated to the left console when he arrived for his shift and found the currently-frowning astrophysicist and all-round-genius had usurped his usual position.

"Sir," she said eventually, looking at what seemed to be something with a great deal of graphs and mathematical symbols, which O'Neill instantly disregarded as something he wouldn't understand. The General fixed an eye on Carter instead, leaning over the right armrest of his chair.

"Carter." The short-cut blond which O'Neill 'officially' valued as a member of his former team and as a close personal friend shot him a slightly distracted look which Jack 'unofficially' found kind of hot as well as worrying.

"Sir, I'm seeing some anomalous readings from the hyperdrive. It could be related to the Asgard modifications, but I would like to run a full diagnostic." O'Neill looked contemplatively out the bridge observation windows into the purplish-blue tunnel of hyperspace for a moment, but his decision was never really in doubt when it came to following Samantha Carter's advice.

"Alright then. Major Marks? Drop us out of hyperspace." The general nodded at the navigation officer/weapons officer who hit some buttons with a mumbled 'aye, sir.' The tunnel which had moments ago held O'Neill's attention dissolved away into normal space, stars shining brightly. "Alright, Carter. Run your diagnostic. The sooner we get back to-_Marks!_"

Major Marks' face betrayed only a slight hint of surprise with the widening of his eyes as he enlarged the sensor screen with a press of a button, the two hyperspace windows that the general had spotted forming in front of the observation window flagged for a moment then fading to leave only the ships that had emerged from them. "Two Ori motherships on an intercept course. Raising shields." The background hum seemed to lower in pitch as the energy output from the naquadriah generators and Asgard core increased to provide the power required to erect the energy bubble which protected the ship.

O'Neill looked helpless for a moment before swivelling the command chair slightly in Carter's direction. She was frowning more strongly now and examining the data displayed on her screen again. "Carter," he reminded her softly. She jerked out of whatever problem she was working on.

"Go, go," she urged, console making a muted beep as she changed the screen again. O'Neill turned to Marks, who was looking at him for orders.

"Engage the hyperdrive." The Major nodded and obeyed, the _Odyssey_ putting on a burst of acceleration and vanishing into the hyperspace window that formed just in front of it in a haze of greenish blue light, narrowly missing a sickly yellow beam fired by the main weapon of the nearest Ori ship. O'Neill relaxed as the view was replaced again by the tunnel of hyperspace travel. "Carter," he said slowly. "What were the chances of that being a coincidence?" The worried look she gave him didn't lift his spirits.

001100010010011110100001101101110011

"It's the Asgard modifications." Colonel Samantha Carter's statement was addressed to a small room consisting of Teal'c, Colonel Cameron Mitchell, Doctor Daniel Jackson, Vala Mal Doran and General Jack O'Neill. Teal'c was looking stoic and impassive as usual, though everyone else at the table looked ill at ease. Mitchell leaned forward, elbows propped on the tabletop.

"I thought you couldn't be tracked in hyperspace." Mitchell looked around as if he expected everybody to be nodding, but the slightly worried expression that seemed to be universally shared didn't change much. Sam jabbed her pointer at the screen behind her and it changed to the graphs that O'Neill had seen her looking at it.

"We know the Asgard monitored hyperspace activity around Earth, so it is possible. But I don't think the Ori can usually do it. The Asgard core-" another click of pointer and another slide change, this time to one riddled with Asgard characters "-is interfacing with the hyperdrive and altering the energy output in specific ways to increase speed and efficiency. I think the Ori are somehow detecting something about the energy output they couldn't before."

"Big deal." Heads swivelled to Vala, who was leaning back in her chair. She looked around and shrugged her shoulders. "Let them follow us. Just drop out of hyperspace over Earth and we can destroy them with the Ancient weapons platform in Antarctica. Problem solved" Sam winced a little.

"That isn't really an option," she began, with a tone of voice that suggested she too regretted that was not an option. "The Ori have stayed away from Earth, but we don't even know if the drones fired by the weapon can penetrate their shields or destroy the ships. If they can't and the _Odyssey_ is destroyed we have an Ori mothership parked in orbit capable of wiping us off the face of the Earth."

"No pun intended," O'Neill added, before continuing. "The point is that running to Earth isn't really an option. They might have left us alone before, but they know we at least have weapons capable of beating them now. They aren't just going to let us get away with that."

"So unplug it," Vala said, again chipping in. "Unplug the Asgard core. No changes in the hyperspace thingy, no energy emissions, no Ori motherships following us wherever we go. Everybody is happy."

"Except the Ori," Mitchell noted.

"Well yes, except the Ori," Vala conceded. "But let's be honest, do we really care about them?" All heads turned to O'Neill, waiting. There was a pause of several moments before he eventually spoke.

"Carter, can you disconnect the core?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "But it would take at least thirty minutes."

There was another silence at that, mental scenarios playing out for all those in the room. The _Odyssey_ was formidable with her new upgrades, but the Ori beam weapons were downright lethal. It would only take four or five shots to punch through even the enhanced shields, and thanks to the particularly nasty effect of the beam weapon it would break the ship in two when that happened or punch a hole so large the _Odyssey_ would be for all intents and purposes instantly crippled. It was Teal'c who broke the silence.

"Could you not simply sever the connection between the core and the hyperdrive, Colonel Carter?" All heads once again turned to Carter, who bit her lower lip in a way that suggested she was having an internal debate.

"I could," she eventually admitted. "It would probably only take half a minute, but the Asgard core took over an awful lot of the safety protocols when it was installed. I couldn't guarantee that the hyperspace window wouldn't fluctuate and slice the ship into pieces. Or even be stable enough to enter in the first place."

"Alright," O'Neill said evenly. "So that isn't really an option either. Would plugging the ZPM into the shields buy us enough time to disconnect the core?"

"Probably," Carter said. "But the ZPM is currently powering the hyperspace engines. We would have to come out of hyperspace to interface it with a new system. And then we have the same problem. The Ori would tear us apart before we managed that, let alone disconnect the core as well."

"Okay." Mitchell said. "We find the nearest planet with a Stargate, beam the crew down then at least try to disconnect the core and maybe take out some Ori motherships at the same time. How's that for a plan?" His somewhat sarcastic tone of voice suggested he wasn't exactly thrilled with his own idea.

"We can't sacrifice the ship," Daniel protested. "It has the entire base of Asgard knowledge, an entire culture! If we can't try and save that, at least do it for all the advances on the ship. It could be the key to driving back the Ori!"

"Ya know," O'Neill said quietly, "Daniel has a point. Not to mention I'm not all that keen on the part where we die. Call me selfish. I can only see two options. We either cut the Asgard core off from the hyperdrive and risk dying the second we jump into hyperspace, or we try to fight them off for half an hour while we disconnect the core entirely."

There was another moment of silence. There seemed to be a lot of those.

"Well, I think it's pretty obvious what to pick," Vala said. "Probable death or certain death. It isn't that difficult."

"Vala Mal Doran is correct," Teal'c intoned. "Our best chance lies with severing the Asgard core from the hyperdrive." After that endorsement it wasn't a difficult choice to make for Jack O'Neill to make.

"Carter," he said decisively. "You heard the Jaffa. We take our chances with the hyperspace window of doom. I'll take that over slugging it out with an Ori fleet any day."

"And the crew," she asked. "What about them?" O'Neill hesitated. On one hand he wanted to save their lives if at all possible. On the other he knew that if the _Odyssey_ ran into more trouble or was damaged it would be almost impossible to repair without the crew aboard. With all the Asgard knowledge and technology on the ship it could define the rest of human history. That was beyond valuable. He wasn't going to pull a miracle out of the fire only for the ship to get damaged and stranded somewhere within spitting distance of Earth and no way to get help.

"We're all in this together, Carter," he said heavily. "We're all in this together." She stared at him for a moment, a heavy look in her eyes. O'Neill was unused to having such scrutiny from somebody who intimately knew him and looked vaguely uncomfortable.

"Aye, sir," she whispered softly. "I'll get right on it." Nobody else seemed to want to speak. They could quite happily sacrifice themselves, but talking about the hundred or more people aboard and deciding their fates for them was a great deal more difficult.

"Dismissed," O'Neill said to the noise of chairs sliding back and the others departing the room. Then he sat there in silence at the head of the briefing table, turning his chair to look out the windows into the tunnel of hyperspace, the lightshow seeming oddly beautiful and suddenly so very deadly.

001100010010011110100001101101110011

It felt like the time to concoct and prepare for a plan that probably meant uncertain destruction never took long enough. Maybe the two things that most bothered him about the idea, namely 'uncertain destruction' and the hurried feeling of the whole thing were somehow related. Those profound and idle thoughts were the exact kind General O'Neill was having as he entered the bridge, his stride turning from the coordinated grace of a soldier to the crisp and authoritarian walk befitting a General of the US Air Force. The effect was ruined when he sighed as he sat down and slouched a little, leaning his elbow on the armrest in a manner that Major Marks commented over drinks with other crewmen was oddly reminiscent of Captain Kirk.

He looked over the armrest for a moment with an expression and idly searching finger that suggested he had no worries in the world before decisively stabbing it down, opening a communications link with engineering. "Carter," he asked, forgoing his regular habit of swivelling the command chair from side to side as he talked. "Is Operation Uncertain Destruction a go?"

Down in the engine room Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter rolled her eyes and leant over part of the Asgard core to reach the intercom. "Almost ready, Sir. Just a few more minutes," she said loudly, before returning to looking at the Asgard heads-up display and slowly making another alteration to her computer program. It wouldn't do to miss a link and destroy the ship anyway. Or make any mistakes, hence the slow pace.

Back up on the bridge O'Neill resisted the urge to say back 'we don't have a few more minutes!', and settled for a 'let us know when you're ready.' He took a deep breath and leaned over the side of the command chair to talk to Marks, who O'Neill noted had once again taken his rightful place at the right hand console. "Marks," he said softly. "When we drop out the Ori could be right behind us. We don't know how many ships or how much time we have. So we keep evasive manoeuvres. But if we get a clear shot with the new weapons, take it. It might slow them down."

The Major nodded and continued doing...whatever it was he did most of the time. True to her word, it only took a few more minutes for the call from engineering to crackle over the intercom. "Ready, sir," Carter's voice radiated through the speaker set into the arm of the command chair. "Just drop out of hyperspace and my program will shut down the hyperdrive and automatically begin deactivating the Asgard modifications. When the hyperdrive comes back online we should jump immediately."

"Understood," O'Neill said, before removing his finger from the intercom and turning to Marks, who had turned enough so he was looking at the General. It was the moment of truth. "Major Marks...drop us out." The muted 'aye, sir' the officer gave in return seemed lost to O'Neill as he just stared out the forward observation window, the comforting hum of the powerful hyperdrive engines fading away, along with a slight vibration he didn't even notice had been there. The bridge felt quiet.

"Hyperspace windows forming, Sir." Marks said, expertly manipulating the sensors the bear on the emerging Ori vessels, which rapidly decelerated as they dropped out of hyperspace and began to move towards the dwarfed _Odyssey_ with a look of inevitability. O'Neill blew an explosive breath out of his nose, leaning forward while he scooted back more firmly into his chair. "Three Ori motherships," Marks noted softly. They had gained an extra pursuer.

"Red alert, ready phasers." There was a pause, just long enough for a suppressed snort of laughter from Marks and a few good natured chortles around the bridge as the lights dimmed and the alarms sounded throughout the ship, contrasting with the sudden burst of amusement. O'Neill cracked a smile. "Maximum military thrust."

The engines of the _Odyssey_ flared a brilliant yellow as the smaller and more agile ship banked to port in a sudden burst of acceleration and away from the three Ori vessels, exposing the underside towards the gargantuan ships for a moment, then righting itself in relation to the motherships and presenting a smaller profile. The nearest Ori ship fired, a yellow bulge of energy bursting out of the main dish-like emitter fixed to the bow of the vessel.

It streaked out like a comet, bulbous and elongated head followed by mile-long trail of discharged energy as it lanced past the small Earth-built ship. O'Neill tracked it with his eyes as it overtook the fleeing _Odyssey_ and continued onwards into space. "That was a close one," he murmured, sparing a quick glance to Marks whose focus was entirely devoted to the screen in front of him before continuing to stare out the forward viewport.

The other two Ori ships fired in quick succession as they too closed into an effective weapons range, one of the shots straying off to the port of the BC304 as it made an extreme turn to starboard before the ship rolled to present the underside to the motherships and moved across and to the side of their line of fire, trying to manipulate the slow turning speed of the massive Ori ships to her advantage. That was when the second Ori beam smashed into the shields.

There was a muted and almost distant thump that reverberated round the ship. It sounded almost nonthreatening, but the sudden lurch that sent a few members of the bridge crew sprawling proved it was anything but, the shields, strong though they were, having difficulty in deflecting the sudden and massive influx of destructive energy.

Marks looked like he was almost sweating as he made rapid and constant course changes, the _Odyssey_ suddenly making a brutal turn upwards, giving O'Neill a prime view of another Ori beam missing the ship by only a few hundred metres, striking where it would have been if not for the sudden course change. "Jesus," he breathed, indulging in a rare moment in which his smart-ass attitude turned into complete lack of decorum. He stabbed his finger down on the intercom, yelling into it. "Carter!"

Down in engineering the blonde-haired Colonel could only helplessly watch as the progress bar on the program continued a march across the screen. Seventy five percent and rising, it said. "A few more seconds, sir!" she shouted back, wishing she could do something to speed it up. Anything.

"I don't know if we have a few more seconds!" O'Neill yelled back, withdrawing his finger from the intercom and recoiling as if burned when the stars turned into streaks of light for a moment as Marks made another drastic change in direction. Another Ori blast glanced off the back shields of the _Odyssey_, the protective energy field flaring a bright greenish blue as it absorbed the impact and the sudden lurch nearly throwing O'Neill from his chair.

Down in engineering Carter was thrown across the main board of the Asgard core, collecting herself for a moment with a deep breath as her eyes strayed to one of the computer screens that indicated shield strength. Her eyes promptly flicked back as the progress bar of her program suddenly surged forward and hit the hundred percent mark. The hyperdrive came back online with a deep hum that reverberated through the ship before it calmed and became the comfortable background noise most of the crew had been used to without realising it.

Up on the bridge Marks almost yelled as he stabbed down on a button which confirmed the latest change in course, the _Odyssey_ swerving around to avoid a point where two Ori beams suddenly converged. If those two had hit...his attention to punching in another course change was suddenly distracted as there was a loud beep and a window unfolded in the bottom right of his screen, indicating the hyperdrive was back online. He didn't bother to punch in a course, he just activated it.

One of the Ori ships fired at that exact moment, the yellow beam lancing towards the rear of the _Odyssey_ as she slowed, sublight power decreasing to feed the sudden demand from the hyperdrive, the window forming in front of the ship like a tear in the fabric of space. With a sudden burst she accelerated into the window, vanishing. That was when the Ori beam caught up, the sickly and virulent yellow of the beam clashing with the greenish light of the hyperspace window just before it closed, sending a pulse of destructive energy straight along the wake of the _Odyssey_.

On the bridge O'Neill slumped in relief, and Major Marks was smiling the faint smile of somebody who was rather surprised he had managed something rather difficult. The General let out a short laugh and clapped the Major on the shoulder, congratulating him. Then the shockwave hit, the hyperspace tunnel seeming to pitch through the observation window through the sudden chaos as the _Odyssey_ went into a wild spin, the calm serenity of the tunnel seeming to warp and almost tear as Jack O'Neill tried to struggle off the floor– then everything went black.

001100010010011110100001101101110011

**As before I will answer specific questions in reviews in the postscript of the chapter, or just generally address comments. Though it helps if you make some constructive criticism and give some support. I want to thank especially Jack Daniel Higgins for his advice on how to write dialogue and helped crush a nasty habit of mine. I hope it is easier to follow this time around. Enjoy!**

_**I, Sayle, do solemnly swear to review all the fics I enjoy, regardless of the number of reviews, its age, or anything else.**_


	2. Damaged

Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate or Battlestar Galactica

**Now you know this isn't a oneshot, can you please actually review?**

001100010010011110100001101101110011

The first thing to filter through the foggy consciousness of Jack O'Neill was a distant blare of alarms, an occasional electric crackle as something sparked above. He could feel the cold floor pressing against his side and cheek, and his forehead felt try. Trying not to make much noise out of instinct he cracked open his eyes and tried to shift into a position where he could get up.

His vision swam, multiple blurry images superimposing over one another as he tried to focus his eyes. But it was hard…and it was dark. The bridge was still cast in the blue lighting of battle stations, but it seemed far darker than even that should be. Rolling over onto his back provoked a sharp stab of pain at the side of his head, and he gently pressed his fingers to that spot. They came away feeling sticky. Blood, his mind fuzzily told him. Maybe a concussion.

But he still had to get up and he rolled slowly to the side again, using it as momentum to fall onto all fours, body protesting as he slowly stood up. He barely reached full height when his knees almost buckled and he had to press his hands onto the top of Marks' console to keep himself up. As his vision sharpened he slowly turned. Marks.

The officer in question was slumped against the screen of his terminal, cheek pressed against the thankfully smash resistant clear glass…or whatever the screen was made of. Reaching out and gently pressing his index and middle finger against the man's neck Jack felt a steady throb beneath his fingertips. He wasn't dead, just unconscious. And judging by his pulse not too badly injured either, even if he was out cold.

Taking a deep breath O'Neill stood again, and this time his legs held, vision almost completely back to normal as he gave the bridge a slow look over, not daring to turn his head too quickly. Several crewmen littered the floor of the bridge, and at the moment one was beginning to stir, groaning lowly. Several of the bridge consoles and terminals were flickering, incomprehensible text appearing for a few moments then vanishing for a split second then appearing again.

Stumbling over to the command chair Jack sat down heavily into it, gritting his teeth as his head pulsed in response. He was still thinking a little foggily. He could remember everything that happened…but they had made it into hyperspace. They should have been safe. It looks like Carter was right after all, and disaster had happened after all. He just hoped that the Ori weren't going to come swooping down any second.

Thinking of Carter he ran his fingers over the intercom buttons, having difficulty remembering the right one for engineering before pushing it down. "Carter?" he asked, voice sounding a little hoarse and scratchy. How long had he been out for? "Carter?" he hissed again, lifting his finger from the button entirely as it became apparent an immediate reply was not forthcoming.

"Damn," he said softly, resisting the urge to just lean back and go to sleep for a little while. Just until he was better. Jack almost fell out of the chair while trying to stand then awkwardly steadied himself before stumbling out of the bridge, looking down the corridors. People were moving, some standing, some helping others. One seemed to be directing them with a flashlight, and O'Neill squinted as it suddenly swung towards him, forcing him to cover his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Sorry sir," the voice came, and the flashlight lowered to about the level of the General's feet as the man approached and stopped in front of him, gingerly reaching out with the hesitation of somebody who wasn't really sure whether he should be doing something, glancing the beam of the flashlight off the General's temple. Even in the low light he could see the stain, and under the light he could see the still slightly wet blood.

"We need to get you to medical, sir, you could have a concussion" he said in a softer tone of voice usually reserved for those who were in some distress or injured. Jack blinked in confusion. It wasn't that bad. "We got hit pretty bad," the man went on. "There are injuries all over the ship. We have over half a dozen on this level and we haven't even reached the bridge."

Normally Jack would have been sarcastic said something like 'no, really?' or 'how did you figure that one out?', but he just didn't have the energy. "Carter," he croaked out, half a question, half an order. He wasn't sure what to ask after that, his mind tiredly refusing to offer up anything else.

"I don't know anything about Colonel Carter, sir," the man said softly. "But we need to get you to medical. Now." His voice held a note of command that O'Neill was used to hearing from Janet Frasier, and that was one person he would never be able to defy. Even if she happened to be using somebody else as a mouthpiece from who knows how far away. He resisted the urge to laugh a tired laugh. Janet Frasier saw everything. He frowned at that thought. Maybe he did have a concussion...

"Right," O'Neill whispered, sagging against the sudden support the crewman provided, dragging Jack's arm over his shoulders in a classic posture and holding the General up but still allowing him to walk as the two carefully made their way down towards the end of the corridor. The ship itself didn't look that badly damaged. The lighting was dim, but none of the them actually seemed broken.

There were no holes in the walls, no ruptured coolant, nothing that made the ship look particularly damaged at all. But whatever it was that had caused this in the first place, and Jack's mind foggily strayed back to the computer screens on the bridge. Something was wrong, or they wouldn't be going on and off spastically. Carter could explain it. Carter could...Jack O'Neill felt his muscles suddenly relax as a wave of dizziness overcame him, but then he saw nothing but darkness.

001100010010011110100001101101110011

He woke to the feeling of warmth against the side of his face and temple, a pulsing hum coinciding with every little burst of centred warmth against his temple. He didn't move as the heat seemed to work under his skin, but not uncomfortably. He was lying on his side, on a mattress. There was a hand on his upper arm gently holding him in place as the heat intensified.

Blinking slowly, Jack O'Neill opened his eyes, then closed them with a wince as bright light greeted him, not the dim blue that had pervaded the bridge and corridors. "Don't move, General," a male voice advised. "You had a nasty concussion. I don't know how you even woke up as fast as you did, let alone managed to stagger around." The humming increased in volume and the heat seemed to stab into his head, a furious prickling appearing, intensifying almost painfully – then it was gone, the humming stopped, and the heat slowly faded from his cheek.

Tentatively opening one eye and looking around, then both, O'Neill realised the lights weren't so painful anymore. Grunting and pressing a hand to his previously injured temple he rolled off his side and onto his back, looking up at the ceiling. There was something important…everything he remembered seemed a little fuzzy, but he had been trying to do something urgent. "Carter," he realised.

"Right you are, Sir," a pleased voice said, and Jack turned to see the ships doctor pulling what looked like a smooth red rock off of his hand, red flecks of light glimmering in the depths of the stone. "Colonel Carter made this thing with the Asgard synthesiser. I guess that means 'made it out of thin air'. Damn useful. I'm not using this on any broken bones yet until I get an instruction manual, though."

The doctor smiled and finally pulled the stone free from his palm, letting Jack see it in more detail. The General took it from the offered hand and turned it over with his fingers. The oval stone struck him as being the same shape as those Asgard stones they…used to use on their control panels. Or those Ancient communication devices. The red stone itself was set in what seemed like black metal, the back of which was almost warm to the touch, sticking to his fingers where he touched it. He ran his finger over a rune at the top of the setting and jerked when the stone began to pulse with light, glowing, and hurried ran his finger over the rune again to turn it off. "Cool," he offered, giving it back to the doctor, who set it back on his desk.

"It'll probably take twenty years of nudging medical technology in the right direction to accept a reverse-engineered version of this, too," the doctor said wistfully, staring down at the clearly alien technology. "Just think of the lives that could be saved in that time." Jack coughed a little uncomfortably at that thought. The Stargate program was top secret because people wouldn't be able to handle full disclosure, and advancements were only just beginning to filter out of Area 51 into the world at large.

"Doc," he said softly, catching the attention of the aforementioned medical practitioner. "Did we have any casualties? We took a nasty…something, there." Something which he would have to discuss with Carter. He had a nasty suspicion the hyperspace safeties she disabled had something to do with the jolt. His heart sank a little as a dark look passed over the doctor's face.

"We lost a man," he said sadly. "He fell over the wrong way and hit his head. He was dead when they brought him in. There will have to be an examination of course, but it looks like blunt force trauma combined with blood loss." He paused a moment for the General to absorb.

It surprised Jack O'Neill how easy it was to accept that one of his men was dead. Perhaps it was because he had been secretly worrying that the toll was worse, that something had exploded and killed a dozen crewmembers. Or maybe it was because he didn't empathise with them, rather than the SG teams which went through the gate every day to risk life and limb. It was an uncomfortable thought, and he didn't linger on it. "Anything else?"

The doctor sighed and reached round the other side of his desk, pulling over a drawer and revealing a clipboard. "I won't bother you with the specifics, but there were no other fatalities, and I don't think any of the injured will turn into one. Five had broken bones, but they all have them sent and are resting up." O'Neill's eyes strayed over the rest of the infirmary. There was no dead body in sight, but there were roughly a dozen crewmen resting in beds, some of them with visible splints.

"What about the others," Jack asked, jerking his head towards the other crewmen currently resting.

"One of them has a debilitating headache, even after I…" the doctor hesitated, unsure of whether to say 'healed' or not. "Healed him," he eventually admitted, sounding a bit grudging about it. "Muscle tension is one thing that stone doesn't fix." He picked up the clipboard again and case his eyes over it. "Another has a sprain, the next had a concussion, like you, but still hasn't woken up…" The doctor shrugged and lightly tossed the clipboard down onto the desk. "Half of them will be gone before the day is out. You needn't worry."

"Good to hear," O'Neill said, and he meant it. Kicking his legs off to the side and standing up, he stretched a little, drawing a speculative glance from the doctor.

"Are you sure you should be up, General?" he asked, a little concern in his voice. Jack just quirked an eyebrow at the question and walked out the door, missing a snort and shaking head from the doctor. His first impression was that everything looked normal. There wasn't even any panels open on the walls and crystals strewn all over the floor. In fact, the ship looked perfectly fine.

That was on his mind when he turned into engineering and found his favourite Colonel deep in conversation with Marks. "Carter!" he said happily, arms open wide in greeting. Sam looked up along with Marks, who stood up and stiffened a little. O'Neill eyed him and noted a nasty bruise just above his left eye. "At ease," he suggested, and Marks relaxed and moved off to leave the General and Colonel alone.

"We took some pretty bad damage," Carter began, only to be interrupted.

"Well isn't that a nice conversation starter?" O'Neill asked. "Hello Sir, how are you? Head isn't bleeding anymore?"

"I heard you had a concussion." Carter said, examining him.

"Had," O'Neill said cheerfully. "No more thanks to the magic Asgard stone."

"Yes sir," Carter said dryly, a light laugh in her voice. "The magic Asgard stone. I just asked for a healing device that works on humans and the Asgard core gave me it."

"Useful thing, that Asgard core. I mean, when it isn't leading the Ori after us. Speaking of which, where are they?" Jack asked, looking around engineering. Nope, no visible damage here, either.

"They must have lost track of us, sir," Carter half said, half suggested. She didn't sound so sure. "We weren't in hyperspace that long, but we might have got far enough away."

"Or they could be sitting out there, laughing at the Earthlings for thinking they got away." Jack gestured towards the ceiling. Sam smiled a little at that.

"Maybe, sir," she said. "Maybe."

"So," O'Neill said, sounding deceptively cheerful as he rubbed his hands together. "Damage report."

"None of our main systems were actually physically damaged," she began.

"That's good," Jack said, still sounding cheerful, even though he had a faint tone of voice that suggested he was waiting for the other shoe to fall.

"But our power systems were," she finished.

"That's bad," Jack said, sounding a little less enthusiastic.

"Yes," Carter agreed. "The power systems are one of the few things that are almost impossible to fix while in space. We actually lost almost ten percent power from the ZPM in about a half a second while trying to maintain the hyperspace field before we dropped out. That amount of power going through the conduits damaged some of them pretty seriously. Some are so shot they can barely power main systems…" she trailed off.

"Very bad," Jack amended, sounded a little resigned now. He took a deep breath and sighed. "Okay then…what can we get to run, and what hit us?"

Carter bit her lip a little. "I don't know," she admitted. "But we got hit by a shockwave. It might have been because the hyperspace window didn't form properly and sent excess energy down after us once it closed, or it could have been weapons fire. Whatever it was, the hyperdrive field almost failed before we could safely drop out. We would have been torn to shreds."

"But we weren't," O'Neill added, just feeling like he should clarify that.

"No," she said quietly. "But it was a close thing. That is where all the energy from the ZPM went, and why the power systems were so damaged. They had to pump an enormous amount of energy to the hyperdrive engines to hold the field. I'm still going over the data." She moved one of the control stones on the Asgard core and pressed it before continuing, the milky white stone lighting up for a moment.

"The lack of power is causing problems. Only one of the Asgard beams has an intact enough power conduit to fire at all." The schematic of the _Odyssey_ appeared on the screen above the core and zoomed in on a blinking red light between the port hanger pod and the neck of the ship.

"You're kidding," O'Neill said, sounding horrified. He probably was. "Out of all the ones that still works, we get the one that can only fire straight ahead so it doesn't hit the ship?"

"It can fire down as well," Carter reassured him, and the General appeared somewhat mollified, though less so when she continued. "A little," she added like an admission. "Maybe forty five degrees."

She moved the stone again and pressed, the image zooming out to encompass the entire _Odyssey_ and a green circle appearing round the ship. "The shields are only operating at about thirty percent strength. An Ori beam would slice through it like tissue paper. But otherwise we should be protected long enough to fight against anything else, like a Goa'uld Hatak."

O'Neill moaned sadly. "All our cool new stuff…"

"Is still there," Carter soothed. "We just need to get the power systems back up again. We can perform limited repairs, but once we get back to Earth and spend a week or two on her the _Odyssey_ will be as good as new in no time."

"Hmph." Jack seemed unconvinced. "So, where is everyone?" He watched Carter move away from the Asgard core and towards the bank of monitors and controls. "And whatcha doing?"

"I'm re-establishing the safety protocols the Asgard core took over when it was installed. It should be safe to use the hyperdrive again, and with no Ori following us. As for where everybody is..." she hesitated a moment, thinking. "Teal'c is lurking around somewhere, Mitchell is in the hanger pod, which I hear took some minor damage. Oh, the F302s are fine," she hurriedly reassured O'Neill after seeing his look. "Daniel is combing through the Asgard knowledge base. They installed a terminal in one of the cargo bays. Holographic and everything. Vala is with him."

Jack grunted. That was everybody in SG1 accounted for except Teal'c, and he was probably off somewhere being stoic. "Anyway, let me know when it's safe to use the hyperdrive. We need to get back to Earth. I'll be on the bridge."

001100010010011110100001101101110011

Space rent and tore as the hyperspace window formed and spat out the _Odyssey_, the starfield over Earth looking strangely beautiful to O'Neill's gaze as it was intersected by the Earth. It had taken some effort, but they were finally home. As much as he hated to admit it, he wasn't going to mind a day or two at his desk. But only a day or two. No longer. Then he would start pining for the action again.

"Came out a bit close, didn't we Major Marks?" Jack said questioningly, noting that they usually didn't jump in so close to the planet. It wasn't really anything to do with safety, just convienence. The hyperspace window wasn't easy to see for a ship as small as the _Odyssey_, but it cost no more than a few minutes to jump just inside lunar orbit and reduce the chances of being seen dramatically. The Apollo astronauts would be spitting with jealousy at how quickly the ship could cross the distance between the planet and moon.

"Yes sir," Marks agreed, the General idly looking over at him as he spoke, the Major sitting to O'Neill's right again. "We should be in geosynchronous orbit over the Nevada shipyard in just a few minutes."

"Ah, Nevada." Jack said, a faint smile on his lips. "Hot and boring. Contact the SGC and General Landry. Tell them the _Odyssey_ got some big guns from the Asgard." A brief shadow passed over Jack's face, the sign of a painful memory. His next sentence was a little tenser. "That should satisfy any questions until we land."

There was a beep from Marks' console and he took both his hands off the controls as if he had done something wrong, looking helpless and confused. "Sir...the SGC isn't transmitting. Neither is NORAD, the shipyard, even the Ancient weapons platform in Antarctica isn't responding. There are no subspace transmissions at all."

"Oh god," came a whisper from his left, and Jack turned worriedly to Carter. She swallowed visibly. "They aren't transmitting because they aren't there. The whole planet is irradiated. I'm not even detecting any cities down there. Just ruins..."

Jack barely heard the rest, slumping back in his chair and looking ashen. The Earth was gone. Sure, it wasn't the end of humanity, the _Odyssey_ was still here...and presumably the Atlantis expedition was still alive in the Pegasus Galaxy, but his mind was too shocked to even grasp onto those thoughts. Only one managed to worm its way up and catch his attention, even as Carter continued talking.

"...are a few radio signals, but all the ones I heard are automated beacons...a few are voiced..."

"Carter," he croaked. "Who did this?" She paused for several moments.

"Sensors are detecting a small armada of ships on the other side of the planet. Low energy readings. At low power the sensors couldn't detect them." She paused. "I am detecting signatures consistent with low-yield nuclear weapons."

Low power, O'Neill thought. They couldn't afford to run multiple power-hungry systems at maximum efficiency anymore. "Major Marks," he said icily, making the officer turn in his chair and look at him. "Make those ships disappear." There was silence on the bridge. Most of the crewmen were just standing there and staring at the planet. It looked fine...maybe a little brown, but fine.

"Aye sir," Marks whispered, looking a little shell-shocked. "Shields up, military thrust. Arming weapons and nuclear warheads." He seemed to shake off his disorientation as he was given a task, and the background vibration deepened as the _Odyssey_ began to move. O'Neill settled back in his seat, whole body tensing.

"Ready all missiles for simultaneous launch. Target the Asgard beam on the largest ship. Railguns will target any smaller ships carrying nuclear ordinance and supplement the beam weapon. Time to intercept?" There was a momentary pause as Marks glanced at his screen.

"Three minutes twenty two seconds, sir." The _Odyssey_ began a gentle turn around the curvature of the planet as she began to continually and rapidly accelerate towards her targets.

"I've located the Stargate," Carter announced, scrutinising her screen. "It's in Washington. Or what used to be Washington." O'Neill frowned at that, keeping an eye on the forward viewport so he could keep track on the progress of the _Odyssey_.

"State or city?" he asked, his voice completely absent of the usual wit and joking that would usually have accompanied the question. Why was the Stargate in Washington? It should be safely under Cheyenne mountain in the SGC.

"City," she said, sounding a little puzzled. "Wait...the sensors are detecting another Naquadah signature." There was a moment as she focused the powerful scanners on the element that made up the Stargate. "It's another Stargate...in Antarctica."

Jack's head snapped around at that, and he almost rose from his chair. "What? How could we have missed that?" The SGC had discovered a second Stargate in Antarctica, but it had been removed almost a decade ago. That gate had been destroyed several years later. So there was a third Stargate on Earth?

Carter was looking a little pale. "Sir, I don't think we did. The first Stargate is near the old armory where it was stored before the program, and the second is only a few miles from where it was originally discovered."

Jack hissed through his teeth, mentally judging how much time had passed. It was probably about two and a half minutes to intercept now. "Time travel?" he asked, teeth gritted. Carter just shook her head.

"Earth wasn't nuked in the past, sir. This is an alternate reality. It makes sense. The damage and radioactivity don't match up. I would have guessed this happened at least two decades ago if Earth hadn't been fine when we left. Sir. This isn't our Earth."

There was silence from Jack O'Neill as he slumped back in the chair, feeling numb and a little weak, some of the tension ebbing away. Emotions warred inside him. Relief that Earth hadn't been destroyed, worry that they wouldn't be able to get back, and a little elation that it wasn't their Earth after all.

"Two minutes to intercept." Marks quiet declaration shook O'Neill out of his stupor. He looked helplessly at Carter.

"Sir," she said quietly. "For all we know those ships could be survivors from Earth in orbit. We don't know for sure that history didn't take a different route before the bombardment. We might even be able to repair the _Odyssey_ with some help if we land somewhere with light levels of fallout."

It only took a moment to decide, but in the truth Jack O'Neill would never have attacked with the information he now had. "Stand down weapons," he said quietly. "Cloak the ship." The was another change in the gentle vibration that pervaded the ship as the properties of the energy shield protecting the _Odyssey_ shifted into a cloak, both the visible form and detectable elements of the ship vanished in a soft rippling of multicoloured light.

001100010010011110100001101101110011

"DRADIS contact lost," Lt. Gaeta announced, with Saul Tigh, XO of the Battlestar _Galactica,_ looking over his shoulder as the red triangle the designated an unknown or Cylon ship simply vanished from the screen. He let out a harsh sigh, more an explosive way of expelling air than a sigh at all. He stood and moved to stand next to Admiral Adama, who was looking contemplative.

"Double the CAP," Adama ordered, taking off his glasses for a moment and pressing his fingers to his temples. "If there is another ship out there I want to know about it." Saul Tigh's face was stony.

"First we find a dead planet, now we have a frakking ghost ship. That's just great."

001100010010011110100001101101110011

**First thing I would like to thank the 1/1000 of you who read the story who in fact reviewed. I would like to thank the 1/10 who have this on story alert and reviewed. I would like to thank the 1/4 who have this story favourited and reviewed. I often story alert what looking interesting in case it becomes more than a oneshot, but I do try to review if it IS more than a oneshot. So please follow that philosophy...please? Constructive criticism is vital, as is support. If writers don't get it...well, you saw Night of the Living Dead, right?  
**

**Jovian Jack - You can put your mind at ease. Any Jack/Sam will be very muted and the same as it was in the show.**

**jpdt19 - This is an old routine? Damn, I wanted to be original! **

**JimBeamer5 - I hope the damage to the _Odyssey_ suitably allays your concerns/curiosity**

**Anon Crewmember - Thanks! I love it when people take time to review, even if it just to say 'I liked it'.**

**theunixer - That was very complicated, but a well made point. Without a sample of _Odyssey_ computer technology the Cylon virus doesn't stand a chance.**

**Red Leader - Thanks! I hope this fic turns out as well as my last one. (Well, better.)**

**Ladybug Jess - I can tell you there will be some tension - the SGC has at the worse of times been borderline, but never downright immoral. ('cept a few isolated incidents)**

**gtamanic - Thanks for the support! I hope you continue to enjoy the story.**

**arewin - Ruined Earth Retold MAY be updated if the muse hits, and I did have a few ideas of including the meeting. But don't hold your breath.**

**angelus288 - Religion will definitely be mentioned, and there may be some intense reactions...though survival will win out, I'm sure.**

**Andriabow - I hope this satisfies your need for more! Not as long as the first chapter, but I actually think this is the best length. Not too short, not too long.  
**

_**I, Sayle, do solemnly swear to review all the fics I enjoy, regardless of the number of reviews, its age, or anything else.**_

**PS: Bonus if you can figure out what the scene break numbers are WITHOUT using the internet.  
**


	3. Possibilities

Disclaimer: I don't own BSG or SG1.

**Read and review! Point out flaws, say what parts caught your attention.**

001100010010011110100001101101110011

_Galactica_ was a battered ship, a behemoth floating in the void of space. Ribbing showed where protective armour had been destroyed or blasted off, leaving the inner hull visible. The gap between the two hulls was meant to diffuse the energy from explosions and missiles in the empty space, but it couldn't do that when there was nothing between the vulnerable inner hull and enemy attack

She was old and worn but she refused to give up. In truth she had been decommissioned and turned into a museum ship just before the attacks. Attack after attack had dulled her teeth and bit at her armour but she still acted as guardian of the civilian fleet. All that remained of the human race, save perhaps the Thirteenth Tribe, if they still lived. She had no shields, no energy weapons, but she had survived more battles than any battlecruiser from Earth could claim to have fought in.

Unlike the Cylon Basestars, which almost entirely preferred missiles, the Colonial Battlestars and by extension _Galactica_ were much more cannon oriented. The payload was driven by similar processes to a handgun as the expanding gases of the firing mechanism pushed the shell out of the twin barrels of the battery. The _Odyssey_ relied on the high velocity of her railgun shells to do damage, but the _Galactica _simply loaded up her guns and blew the enemy apart in a fashion that would make naval commanders nostalgic.

Inside his personal office Admiral Adama sat back in his chair, carefully watching a silent Laura Roslin as she sat across from him, staring down at one of his open books. He spared a momentary thought for those books. Perhaps the last real collection of books from the Twelve Colonies, and he was loathe to damage them. They were more than just history now, they were heritage. They were his own personal library as well, though, and they were filled with books of a serious nature, the great literary works of the Twelve Colonies.

Sometimes it felt as if his desk had roughly the same amount of paperwork in neat piles. Back on Caprica, before the Cylon genocide of the human race, Adama would have been buried in it had he been in so many battles. But here as commander of the last battlestar in existence he received reports rather than made them. The military loathing of paperwork lived on in the bowels of _Galactica_, but it all eventually made it to the Old Man.

To the side of his desk the intercom would usually be crackling with distorted voice, but today it was silent. He had the policy of never being unavailable, but when the President of the Twelve Colonies was sitting at your desk and looking devastated that policy could be overlooked. He was the commander of the _Galactica_, and that meant he was responsible for the defence of the fleet if the Cylon's showed up, and that meant defence of all that was left of humanity. It was not a duty that he took lightly.

But it was a duty that meant hard choices came with the package. Choices that killed pilots, officers, civilians…other people that he condemned with an order or inaction. He wasn't a saint. It was impossible to be a saint with the survival of an entire race on his shoulders, the survival of a culture. But William Adama was a good man at heart, and he felt the burden acutely.

Laura Roslin on the other hand had the unenviable duty of trying to hold the politics and people of the Fleet together, despite the destruction of their homes, occasionally being harried by the Cylons...and despite the political backstabbing that had become even more vicious in the absence of a place to call home. She was a dying woman, cancer slowly destroying her body with a slow but unstoppable pace.

So when they had finally found Earth she thought she could die happy. But when they had gone down to the planet below and found nothing but ruins and radioactive dust all that hope had been suddenly and viciously torn away. Now she had to tell the Fleet that, and the Admiral could understand why she didn't want to.

"You have to call a press conference, Laura," he said quietly, reaching across the desk to gently enclose one of her hands in his as a comfort. Her sightless eyes suddenly focused and moved up to his face, her features filled with grief. "The rumours are already spreading through _Galactica_," he whispered. "It's only a matter of time before it reaches the rest of the fleet."

She slowly nodded sadly. Adama had never seen her so visibly close to breaking before. Earth had initially been a rumour, a scrap of myth and legend Adama had thrown out into the fleet as an elusive goal to keep the fractured groups together. But when markers and signs had been found leading them towards that legend his own heart had stirred and focused on finding the Thirteenth Tribe.

"The Cylons are keeping quiet, at least." His observation sounded a little less heavy. He never thought he would be working with Cylons. Rebel Cylons, yes, and rebels that had helped the remnants of humanity destroy their ability to resurrect, removing their immortality. Embracing mortality to give meaning to their lives. It had been a gesture of trust, but trust didn't come easy.

In truth the Cylons were likely just as devastated. They too had thought Earth could be a new beginning, something their God had decreed they should have. Where the Colonials worshipped the Lords of Kobol in a polytheistic pantheon, the Cylons believed in only one God. It was just another difference between the humans and machines. Machines that looked like humans, felt like humans...and were driven with that same passion and pure determination. But they were not human, and could never be human.

"What should I say?" she asked, voice very near breaking and showing a true vulnerability. Her other hand came to rest on top of Adama's, linking them together. She felt frail, weak and utterly destroyed. "That the Earth is gone? That all our hope is for nothing?" She sighed a heavy sigh, one from deep inside her chest and trembling. "Bill...this is going to tear the fleet apart."

"It's going to tear the fleet apart anyway," he said softly. "Whether we tell them or not. People will be asking if the Cylons did this, if they knew all along. If this is all a trap to crush our hearts before they crush our bodies." Laura seemed to clutch onto his hands more firmly, almost frantically.

"Is it?" she asked, voice trembling. "Is it all a trap? Have we done all this for nothing?" The Admiral pulled one of his hands from her grasp and gently rested it on her cheek, thumb lightly stroking against her skin.

"You saw how they reacted down there. This wasn't them. It happened a long time ago. We have to deal with it." He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, removing his glasses and placing them gently on the surface of his desk before looking directly at eyes that looked close to tears. "Call a press conference, Madam President. Then we ride it out and see where it takes us."

Swallowing, Laura Roslin nodded.

001100010010011110100001101101110011

The beam of a flashlight cut through the rubble as two figures clambered over the slabs of concrete and the occasional twisted steel beam that made up a collapsed wall and ceiling. One slipped and stumbled down the other side, almost falling over before the other caught him in a firm grip, holding his upright. "Thanks, Teal'c."

The impassive Jaffa nodded in response and ran his own flashlight over the room they had managed to climb into. What looked like wine racks were set against the wall and in aisles across the large space, with what looked like long capped tubes of dull brown shoved into the cubby holes. "What is this place, Daniel Jackson?"

The archaeologist and member of SG-1 brushed his hand across the edge of one of the cubby holes, removing a great deal of dust then cleaning his hand on the side of his leg. The quick wipe had revealed an inscription, which Daniel focused his flashlight on and quickly read before looking up and running his flashlight across the rest of the holes and the tubes inside them. "This, Teal'c, is the New York Times archive. Now we don't want to stay long because of the radiation, so look for where all the tubes stop. That should be the last publication before whatever happened here."

The Jaffa nodded and took the next aisle over, combing it for what they were looking for. It was a large room, but it was easy to look for where the deposits of sealed tubes stopped rather than looking at the date marked just over each one. Teal'c found it at the end of one of the aisles, where empty cubbies suddenly began. "Here, Daniel Jackson!"

There was a stomping of feet before Daniel rounded the corner of his aisle and stopped, running his flashlight over the empty spaces. "Great. Now we just need to find the last one..." his voice trailed off as he stood in front of where they stopped and checked the nearest few dates before grabbing one of the tubes and pulling it out.

Daniel grit his teeth as he closed his hand round the sealed cap and pulled, wriggling it loose before it finally came free with a muted pop, a short billow of dust spreading outwards from the open end of the tube. Reaching in carefully he withdraw the rolled up paper and unfolded it, blowing lightly to removed the accumulation of dust on the outside surface. Running his flashlight over it he paused then looked at where he pulled the tube from. "Grab the next one, Teal'c."

The Jaffa didn't ask any questions and pulled the next tube, with which Daniel repeated the process of uncapping it and reading the headline. What he saw made him frown. "Okay," he said after a few moments of silence. "I think I know what happened."

001100010010011110100001101101110011

While Daniel was hunting the ruins of the New York Times Jack O'Neill stood staring out the bridge viewport of the _Odyssey_ at the ships off the bow. The cloaked ship couldn't be detected, so he had no problems with bringing them to within fifty kilometres of the fleet to get a closer look and more detailed sensor readings. Sam Carter hadn't even moved from her spot since they reached Earth, constantly reviewing new information.

"Well I'm not detecting any hyperdrive engines, although they do have a fuel I don't recognise on board most of their ships. Only two of them are armed, and I'm not detecting any shields." Her announcement only made O'Neill eye the ships speculatively and stuff his hands in the pockets of his jumpsuit.

"Huh," he said, sounding noncommittal. "What about those weapons?"

"Both ships have different designs, and one has far fewer lifesigns than the other," she continued. "Judging by the organic components in one of them I would wager that they are built by different species. The first and larger ship is equipped with cannons and the second primarily missles. They may be designed to complement each other."

"Threat assessment?" O'Neill asked promptly, eyeing the smaller of the ships. It looked visibly damaged. Scratch that. Something had taken massive chunks out of it.

"They have some nuclear ordinance on board, but most of it is low yield. Still, without shields I wouldn't want to be hit by one of those cannon batteries. Even with the carbon-trinium-naquadah alloys making up the hull it simply isn't thick enough to stop them."

So they could pose a threat, but the hull of the _Odyssey_ was only minimally designed to stop direct impacts. The shields were designed to safely take and absorb massive bursts of energy the equivalent of several nuclear strikes in quick and regular succession, and even operating at low capacity the shields should be able to take an attack.

"Sir, Doctor Jackson and Teal'c are requesting beam up. They say they have something you need to see." Marks announcement was welcome, and O'Neill sighed in relief. He wasn't really sure he had wanted them down there for long, even with only residual radiation.

"Beam them to the bridge," he ordered, moving back from the open space between the command chair and the viewport to clear the area. As soon as he moved clear the shimmering light of an Asgard transporter grew and solidified before Teal'c and Daniel appeared in a flash of light, both looking a little dusty. Daniel was holding what looked like several newspapers close to his chest.

"I take it the tomb raiding was a success?" Jack asked, looking a little amused at the position Daniel was holding the papers in. He knew it was just to keep them secure so he didn't drop him, but it reminded him of the possessive way of holding artefacts Daniel used to have when he first started going through the gate. To Jack's disappointment Daniel ignored the jibe.

"I think I found where our universes diverge," he announced. "1983."

001100010010011110100001101101110011

The briefing room was again occupied by SG1 and General O'Neill, and it reminded Jack the last time they had sat in this room it had been the start of a series of unfortunate events. Daniel had the stack of newspapers in front of him and waited for everybody to sit down before beginning when Jack gave him a hand gesture that suggested he get on with it. "Right," Daniel said, standing up and removing the top newspaper from the stack.

"Here we have the New York Times for July 13, 1983. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. In fact, I would be very surprised if it wasn't identical to the newspaper in our universe." Daniel put down the newspaper by the others and picked up the next in the stack. "Here we have July 14, 1983. This _is_ very different." He turned it around so they could all see the headline and picture that went with it. O'Neill blinked in surprise, Sam sucked in a sudden breath in shock, Teal'c looked stoic, Vala didn't really react at all and Mitchell let out a 'woah'.

"I'll read the basics," Daniel said, turning around the newspaper and beginning to read. "**Moscow Destroyed!**" he began, reading the headline first and sparing a momentary glance for the artist's impression of an exploding St. Peters Cathedral. "_Today Americans everywhere woke up to the news that Moscow, the capital city of the Soviet menace has been destroyed. The bombardment began in the middle of the night American time and continued into the early hours of the morning. The Russian premier reportedly survived and fled the ruined city as the Kremlin crumbled."_

At that point Daniel paused, allowing them all to digest this. "Did the newspapers really use words like 'Soviet menace' back then?" O'Neill asked. "'cause I'm pretty sure I must have glossed that over. Maybe they said that sort of thing in the sixties, but fer crying out loud! The Cold War was winding down in the 80s."

"I thought that the Cold War had simply escalated in this reality rather than declined at first as well," Daniel admitted. "But after reading some more I think that the writer of the article was just caught up in patriotic fervour. The communists had just been dealt a devastating blow. I'll continue." He cleared his throat.

"_Experts believe this non-nuclear opening salvo in the inevitable war between the United States and USSR holds hope for the future. "The nuclear deterrent may remain unused,' says one expert on the nuclear standoff. 'But the longer a war drags on the more likely it becomes that nuclear warfare will commence.' President Reagan called an emergency session of Congress to discuss the destruction of Moscow."_ Daniel took a glance at everybody else around the table for a moment. "Now the rest of the article talks about the death toll of the bombardment and likely consequences, but the interesting bit comes later when it recounts an eyewitness story of 'golden missiles of light' streaking down from the sky and destroying the city."

"Wait a second," Sam said. "Are you saying that in this reality Moscow was destroyed by the Goa'uld?"

"I think so," Daniel said, looking a little impassioned at being able to argue his point. "Let's think about this. In our time line could the US have completely demolished a city the size of Moscow with pinpoint accuracy in the space of just under half a day? With golden missiles of light? We all know what orbital bombardment from a Hat'ak looks like, and we haven't seen any indications that the technology here was more advanced."

"Except the fleet in orbit," Sam noted. "They could always be from Earth." She paused a moment. "Could be...personally I doubt it."

"Okay, ignoring the fleet," Mitchell said, leaning forward. "You think this reality is different because the Goa'uld attacked Moscow, then...what, it triggered nuclear war?" Daniel nodded, and Mitchell leaned back in his chair, looking a bit uneasy. "Damn, that hits a bit close to home, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Daniel said quietly. "I bet whoever it was got pretty pissed when their new slave world managed to destroy itself the next day." He put down the second paper on top of the first and slid the last one into the middle of the table. The headline was only one word: War. "That is the last newspaper. New York must have been nuked before the next paper could be published and placed in the archive."

"So," O'Neill commented. "Essentially the Goa'uld attacked Earth, which promptly nuked itself. This poses a problem. Carter, can we get home?" She looked indecisive at the question, shifting a little in her chair.

"I've been going over the data, and I don't think we can risk trying a return trip until we can channel more power to the hyperdrive, and that means repairing at least some of the power systems. If we can't keep the field stable when we get back to our reality the _Odyssey_ won't survive the journey."

"Okay then," Jack said, visibly thinking. "Let's see what our other options are for repairs. The Asgard?"

"Probably destroyed by Replicators," Daniel said glumly. "They didn't have us this time round."

"But it's a possibility they managed to fight them off," Sam added. "So we can't discount it entirely."

"Atlantis?" Jack suggested, just throwing ideas out into the room.

"Although it could provide the resources we need the shield might have failed," Sam said softly. "Not to mention we would have to use the ZPM to power the Stargate to make a connection there and I don't know how to manually trigger the failsafe to surface the city. We could take the _Odyssey_, but with the hyperdrive in the state it's in we would need two months to make the journey and we wouldn't be able to beam through the city's shield and thousands of feet of water."

"Not to mention if the shield hasn't failed it would immediately," Mitchell chipped in. "Because it did in the original timeline of our universe before Janus and his nifty little time machine got involved. With no Atlantis Expedition in this universe there isn't a failsafe programmed into the computer so when the power drops too low the city surfaces." He paused as everybody gave him odd looks. "What?" he asked defensively. "I read the reports from the first year of Atlantis as well."

"In any case," Sam declared, "I think we should beam up the Stargate into the cargo hold where I can rig up a basic dialling system. It would be useful if we could check out some of the planets that might be able to help us. If worse comes to worse we might have to drain the ZPM to make an intergalactic connection."

"Go," O'Neill ordered, and Sam nodded before pushing back her chair and leaving the room.

001100010010011110100001101101110011

"I hate press conferences." The soft voice of President Laura Roslin sounded tired. Lee Adama stood beside and behind her as they waited for an appropriate time to enter the room where the conference was being held. His only response to her comment was a slightly bitter smile. It was hard not to be bitter, with a burned Earth below them. But they had to give off an atmosphere of hope, that this wasn't the end for the fleet or humanity.

"I hate them with a passion." Roslin emphasised her words carefully, making clear she was fishing for a response. Lee's mouth twitched upwards again for a brief moment as she turned around to look at him. "Technically you could say you were still President. Contest this."

Lee laughed a little, looking away for a moment before reaching out and checking her collar as she stared at him with that uncomfortably intense gaze of hers. "I was never President," he said softly. "I was just filling in until you got back." That intense stare continued for a moment, then her face relaxed and she gave him a smile as he finished with her collar.

"Now more than ever we need to present a unified front. The Quorum is going to tear us apart." She sounded tired again. Admiral Adama had been surprised when Lee decided he wanted to go into politics after time as a Viper pilot and commander of a Battlestar. But he was a formidable presence when he wanted to be, and his strength had served them well in his short tenure of mere days.

The voice of the President's aide filtered in, saying the words that informed the reporters that there would be no questions until the end and began the radio transmission of the conference. "Now presenting the President of the Twelve Colonies, Laura Roslin." The aforementioned woman took a deep breath and stepped out onto the stage with seemingly confident steps, taking her place in front of the podium, microphones bristling in front of her. Lee Adama stood behind and to her right with his hands crossed in front of him in a relaxed posture.

"People of the fleet," she began, her voice being broadcast across the orbiting ships. "We came to Earth expecting to find a new home, a new hope. The promise of our brothers of the Thirteenth Tribe drove us to overcome impossible odds to find Earth. But now, instead of that promised home, we find a wasteland." Instantly the room exploded in a sea of noise, reporters and representatives standing and shouting at the top of their voices.

Elsewhere, on the bridge of the _Odyssey_, the officer monitoring communications perked up as the indiscriminate radio waves of the broadcast washed over the cloaked ship and was flagged for his attention. He quickly turned in and a few moments later had begun to record before leaving his station to hurry up to the side of Colonel Carter, leaning down and whispering in her ear before retreating. In moments the conference was being listened to by the entire bridge of the _Odyssey_, Jack O'Neill losing his pensive face as he straightened up and a look of interest replacing it.

Laura Roslin waited for over a minute for the shouts to die down into murmurs between the reporters and the murmurs to die further into silence and the occasional muttered comment. "Thank you," she said quietly. "There will be no questions until the end of this statement." It was always good to remind the reporters that they wouldn't get any answers any time soon if they kept interrupting. She looked down at the single sheet of the prepared statement in front of her and took a deep breath.

"Earth has held us together for so long that now we are here we don't know what to do. The fact is that we don't have a home anymore, not since the Colonies were destroyed. We are thousands where we were once billions. So what do we do now?" Her voice held a quiet, forceful quality to it that momentarily had most of the assembled reports pause in their scribbling and look up at her.

"The answer is we have to make a choice. We can stay here over a dead world and think about what could have been or we can keep going." She took a deep breath at the almost crushing silence. "We have to keep going," she said softly. "Because if we don't humanity dies with us." As if sensing that was the end of the statement the reporters didn't bother to wait for her to say it was the end of the statement and immediately began clamouring for answers. Roslin nodded at one of the few reporters who had actually _been_ a reporter before the Cylon genocide.

"Madam President, why is the planet uninhabitable?" The room stilled, hanging onto the answer to that question. Laura's mouth suddenly felt very dry.

"The planet…" she hesitated a little. "From what I understand," she said bravely, "the planet is dead because of high levels of radiation-" There were cries around the room, shouts, instant demands for answers, and she actually flinched. Lee Adama flicked his concerned gaze to her for a moment before returning to look over the crowd.

"It appears," she said loudly, quelling most of the noise. "It appears that there was a heavy nuclear bombardment." Some of the reporters had apparently learned to stay quiet, but most still shouted and demanded answers. "Any further questions will be directed to Lee Adama," she said smoothly, beginning to feel a little faint. Retreating back from the podium she allowed Lee to step up then left the stage to rest.

He watched her go without any visible concern on his face, but it showed in his eyes until he schooled his expression into something more impassive. Her cancer was not very forgiving, and it was terminal. It didn't help that not long ago she missed her meds for a prolonged period. But he needed all his wits for the questions, so he wiped those thoughts away and stepped up to the podium.

"Mr. Adama!" he nodded towards one of the more vocal but friendly reporters. He had learnt quickly that some would ask simpler and less aggressive questions while others would attempt to catch him verbally or cause controversy. "Was Earth destroyed by the Cylons?" The room fell silent, and people across the fleet were riveted as they waited for an answer.

Lee swallowed. His answer here could determine the fate of the alliance between the rebel Cylons and _Galactica_. Most people weren't very comfortable with the machines that killed forty billion people in their midst. "We believe because of radioactive decay that Earth was destroyed at least a decade ago, maybe more. It is unlikely that the Cylons were responsible. Next question." He pointed at one of the calmer members of the press.

"There have been reports of a ship detected by _Galactica_. Is it possible that any of the Thirteenth Tribe survived?" Lee blinked in surprise. His father had only mentioned it in passing to him, though he had doubled the Combat Air Patrol. As far as he was aware it had only been on DRADIS for about ten seconds as it rounded the curvature of Earth and into view, but nothing had been seen since.

He coughed a little uncomfortably, unsure of how to answer. "This…aha…'ghost ship' hasn't been seen since the initial and very short DRADIS contact. It is possible it was simply a piece of fast moving space debris with a large DRADIS profile, or it could have been a simple case of DRADIS seeing things that aren't there. I really couldn't tell you any more than that."

"After being President of the Twelve Colonies, how do you feel about Laura Roslin reassuming your post?" Lee turned to look at the reporter who had spoken without being called on. One of the less reputable ones, and possibly in Tom Zarek's back pocket. Lee chuckled disarmingly.

"I was just keeping the seat warm for her. Thank you, this press conference is over." He nodded at the presidential aide who had been standing off to the side and retreated off the stage in a similar manner to Roslin as the sudden hubbub of reports shouting questions to him and each other washed over him. Sometimes the aide would answer them – but not today. The conference was over, and now they had to figure out what to do, because these next few days could decide the survival of the Fleet.

001100010010011110100001101101110011

"So what changed?" O'Neill asked, looking out the windows of the briefing room at the monolithic _Galactica_, making special note of the two long flight pods straddling the ship. The cloaked _Odyssey_ had slipped into an orbit with the rest of the fleet and was keeping station between the star-shaped ship and _Galatica_ for more detailed scans of both armed vessels.

"Sir?" Carter sounded a little confused.

"I mean what changed," Jack elaborated. "Why are these ships here but not in our reality?"

Sam shrugged helplessly. "Who knows, sir. They might be there. After all, we were gone for a while." She took a deep breath. "For all we know the changes in this reality could be extensive." That caught O'Neill's attention and he turned away from the windows.

"Well without us…what, Ra is still alive, the good-for-nothing snake. Who knows if the Asgard are still around. The Replicators are probably hanging about, and we all know how much effort it took to get rid of those things." He eyed Sam curiously. "Is that what you meant by '_extensive_', Carter?"

"Partially," Sam admitted. "But I was thinking more of what would have put the Goa'uld in a position to attack Moscow in the first place. It obviously didn't happen in our reality. Maybe something happened here that didn't before and our reality diverged a lot longer ago than we think. We can't take anything for granted here."

"That's great," Mitchell said, leaning forward. "But I think what we really need to figure out is what to do with this fleet, not why Lord I-have-a-parasitic-snake-in-my-head decided to make a road trip to Earth in the 1980s."

"Why get involved in the first place?" Heads turned to Vala, who shrugged. "They are technologically primitive, seem to lack any planet to call home and apparently have an enemy called 'Cylons' after them."

"Sir," Carter jumped in. "The Asgard universal constructor onboard – like the ones they used to upgrade the _Odyssey_, just much smaller scale – it needs resources to make anything, or a great deal of energy. The ZPM can provide that, but to completely repair the _Odyssey_ with energy-to-matter created materials would probably cut the ZPM's power stores in half. Power we might need to get home. If we had heavy elements or metals, which they have a lot of…"

O'Neill stared at her for a moment, and Sam got the impression he understood her. Jack had a habit of feigning simplicity which consistently made people underestimate him, and his true intelligence only shone through with the speed with which he made his stupid smart-alec quips. You didn't get to be a General or survive in the Special Forces and SGC beforehand by being stupid.

"Wait, wait, wait." Mitchell interrupted the momentary lull in conversation. "So basically you mean we _could_ make everything we need out of thin air, but it needs a ton of energy."

"Essentially," Carter confirmed. "It is a little more complex than that."

"But," Mitchell continued. "If we get some stuff from the guys out there, we can do it without wasting anything from the ZPM?"

"Well we have to power the device, but yes."

"Okay then," Mitchell said, nodding and leaning back. "We won't be in this reality forever, so why don't we throw them a bone. Just give them something cool…like shields. ...What?" Carter was already shaking her head as he finished, prompting the question.

"Not only do shields have a massive power requirement that I'm not convinced they could generate, but do we really want to arm these people? Shielding could make that massive ship out there invincible compare to any other ships similar to theirs, and we don't know much about them."

"They could be not unlike the Eurondans." Teal'c noted. Vala frowned in confusion.

"Eurondans?" she asked.

"Supremacists on a planet we visited," Daniel explained, having remained quiet so far. "They believed that they were genetically pure while the 'breeders' who didn't care about it should be killed. They poisoned their entire planet while they were safe in their bunkers. We actually helped them for a while before we learned the truth."

"So…bad?" Vala asked, though it didn't really sound like a question.

"Indeed." Teal'c confirmed, his voice lowered in pitch enough to convey his displeasure.

"So…what can we do? Daniel, have you figured out anything about these people yet?" Jack asked, sitting down at the head of the table.

"Well," Daniel said, interlacing his fingers and placing his hands on the table. "As far as I can tell these people are from the Twelve Colonies, and regard Earth as the Thirteenth Tribe. They may be alluding to something culturally significant or that they were originally taken from Earth. They seem to be fleeing rather than fighting an enemy called the 'Cylons', though I'm not sure what those are either." He looked over at Sam, who took over from there.

"We had a computer program run through the various radio transmissions and compile most often said words and various other factors, then sorted them into groups." she explained. "Most often said in conjunction with 'Cylons' were the words 'toasters', 'skinjobs', 'frakking', 'motherfrakking', 'damn', 'baseship', and other words along a similar vein. No prizes for guessing what 'frakking' and 'motherfrakking' means."

"Guess they really don't like them," Mitchell joked.

"Toasters?" O'Neill asked in confusion. "They felt the need to mention toasters?"

"It's probably slang," Daniel said softly. "But the problem is we don't know enough about them. If these were normal circumstances I wouldn't make contact with them without more observation, but I don't think we really have a choice."

O'Neill nodded slowly, mentally tallying up the pros and cons. The cons outweighed the pros, but beggars couldn't be choosers. So many things could go wrong he didn't even want to think about them. "Carter, is there any way we can securely contact them without letting everybody know we're here?" Sam nodded.

"They have regular fighter patrols." she said. "It wasn't difficult to isolate what radio frequency they use to communicate with them. Secure military channels probably don't have many listeners, but the encryption they use is basic. Just enough to keep anybody with a radio tuning in, but not much more. They probably use something more complex in battle situations."

"Then let's get up to the bridge," O'Neill declared, moving to stand. "We have a call to make."

001100010010011110100001101101110011

Thanks to all those who reviewed, but** ESPECIALLY **to** jpdt19, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Lame **and** BlackLionness** for reviews that actually each prompted me to churn out several thousand words on the spot. If your reviews are combined it doesn't mean I don't like them, it means that you both raised similar points.

**Sithking Zero – **I didn't actually consider that. I don't think the story will go on for that long, but it is something to consider, isn't it?

**Mylittlesecret/Bokorman – **Thanks. I'm not sure how long this is actually going to be, but it seems to be going well so far.

**Bhoy – **The Colonial's aren't 'getting' the _Odyssey_. In fact I think there will be a bit of friction when they realise just how much they could be doing but refuse to give...

**Ladybug Jess –** Honestly the 'ghost ship' thing was just spur of the moment, but I wanted _Galactica_ to at least take note of them before they vanished.

**Jpdt19 – **I actually didn't consider the Ra problem until you brought it up, but yes, I think the Goa'uld are going to be very organised if they are encountered, and much stronger. There was a great deal of squabbling over Ra's territory, after all...

**Red Leader – **Guess my idea wasn't so original after all, but I'm confident the story will take a different direction.

**Vile Twitch –** Thanks!

**GodricGryff – **Yes, the numbers are computer code. No, you didn't win the prize.

**Valiran **– It was mainly losing the chapter to the computer crash. I didn't want to rewrite it, and I couldn't think of a different way to do it. Not to mention I didn't get access to a computer for a while...but I think this is actually turning out better. i.e. not such a curbstomp.

**He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Lame – **I'm trying, so desperately trying to resist the urge to go nuts and have the Odyssey loot the Ancient outpost, dial Atlantis, and fly the city through space like a mobile base with all the ZPM locations they know. That idea is better than chocolate. As for the time-travel, I hope the chapter explained it!

**Anon/TenWings/LifeofNemo – **Thanks for the support!

**Gedpod – **The chapter breaks are at convenient points. So a chapter could be 6000 words to 3000. It just depends.

**Aussie** – I'm afraid the big reveal is next chapter. I hope it isn't too devastating.

**RisingPheonix - **An alternate reality is definitely easier to write to my mind...not to mention it opens up a lot of possibilities.

**Galaxy** **–** It always bothered me in Star Trek how consoles would blow up just because of a power overload. Wouldn't the circuitry just melt? Or has the ancient art of switches and fuses been lost during World War III in the Star Trek universe?

**Apollotuba** – I feel guilty for wasting your time now. The binary was a pop culture reference that if you don't get and don't have a sharp memory you won't understand. The next reviewer got it right, though.

**Gtamanic – **Yes, the binary is the Time Code from Futurama. Congratulation. You get a teddy bear. I think that though the F302s are more advanced than the Vipers the Viper pilots have much more experience at fighting in space. Period.

**BlackLionness – **Thanks for such a detailed review! It gives me a warm feeling just looking at it. I really do have to figure out a way to bring the Atlantis team into this, simply because I feel much better about the banter and personalities than the SG1 team. And Atlantis is cool. And it's my story, dammit, I don't care if it doesn't make sense! If I want the Death Star escorted by a fleet of Borg Cubes to show up they will, gottit?

The first contact is going to be tense, but I'm not going to make up arguments. The _Odyssey_ team is trying to get something they need badly to get home for something the Colonials need very badly. And they certainly won't be giving them kickass weaponry. The lack of lifesigns on the Cylon ship in LoK has been addressed before – it was a mistake I fixed in this, although I'm glad for the reminder. Tigh on the bridge will be mentioned, and I hope this being a mostly 'conversation' chapter won't put you off!

**JC – **I don't know what that TV show or book is, but it looks like you have something you might want to give a go at! Thanks for the support.

**Saetan/WingedIsis/andreabow – **Thanks for the reviews and letting me know you are actually reading the story. If you have anything you would like to mention to make it better, let me know!

**Heyster – **The focus will be more on SG1 simply because I have a better grip on them, but I hope the BSG crew won't be shoved out of the picture.

**Maryjean – **Don't worry, no massive spacebattles between capital ships a mile long and galaxy/universe destroying aliens in this.

**Dreameralways/LordSia – **Here is the update, and I hope that this is a transitional chapter won't bother you.


	4. First Contact

Disclaimer: I don't own BSG or SG1.

**Read and review! Point out flaws, say what parts caught your attention.**

001100010010011110100001101101110011

The Viper gently banked as Kara Thrace, call-sign Starbuck, finished her patrol. Ever since the Admiral Adama had doubled the CAP she had been getting less and less sleep and more and more time in the cockpit of her Viper. She enjoyed flying, and she was damn good at it, but doubling the CAP had resulted in her workload increasing to the point where she could barely take it.

The blocky and unimpressive form of the Viper was designed more for space superiority than atmospheric fighting, unlike the sleeker Earth-built F302 which had the disadvantage of being designed for both. But the F302 had superior technology and inertial dampers to compensate for the design compromise, where the Viper did not.

Even though only the elite were selected as test pilots for the F302 programme they were still trained in conventional fighters beforehand and most would never quite make the transition into making space combat a finely tuned art. The Viper pilots on the other hand had become the best of the best out of necessity to ensure survival both for themselves and the Fleet.

What Kara didn't know was that at that very moment the cloaked _Odyssey _was mere miles away from _Galactica_ and by extension her Viper, which was cruising just off the bow of the massive Battlestar and making a turn to line up with the port flight pod. Starbuck thumbed on her communication system, opening a channel directly to the command centre of Galactica, or more specifically the station of Anastasia Dualla.

"Dee, this is Starbuck. CAP patrol is complete, I'm coming in for landing on the starboard flight pod." In the CIC of _Galactica_ Dualla looked turned in her seat and pressed her fingertips against the side of her headphones, the radio signal crackled and distorted by the cosmic radio waves that were always present, _Galactica_ and the Twelve Colonies having never delved deep into digital forms of radio communication.

"Starbuck, you are cleared for landing." Dualla shot a glance over her shoulder into the centre of the CIC, where Admiral Adama was engaged in a hushed conversation with Saul Tigh. There were rumours that the XO was a Cylon all over the ship, but some of the command crew knew that the rumours were in fact true, and it made Dee stir uneasily. "The Old Man is here, Starbuck. Try to not to crash."

Kara snorted, a rare smile tugging at her lips as she shook her head a little. "I'll try my best, Dee. No promises. I'm coming in. Starbuck out." Kara carefully tightened her grip on the control stick of her Viper and almost completely killed the forward throttle as she used manoeuvring thrusters to precisely line herself up with the long, hollow landing bay. Unlike the F302s aboard the Odyssey with their inertial dampeners decelerating to a dead stop from the sort of speeds she was going at would be suicidal, mainly because the negative Gs would try to pull her brain out her eyes.

Usually Kara wouldn't hesitate to pull off an impressive landing, but today she was going it textbook and slowly. Maybe it was because all the patrol flights were making her tired. Maybe it was because she had felt tired ever since they found out about the state of Earth. Maybe it was because every time she looked out her cockpit she could see the planet that represented all their shattered hopes.

She was roughly ten seconds from actually entering the flight pod landing bay when her radio crackled, a sign that the channel had been opened. Kara listened, but after a couple of seconds when no message seemed to be forthcoming, she frowned. "Dee, is that you?" There was no response, and Kara was only five seconds away from the pod with her stomach sinking. The last time something weird had happened in her Viper it had ended badly, and Kara Thrace knew to trust her gut.

In the Combat Intelligence Center of _Galactica_ Anastasia Dualla was dealing with a similar problem, the crackle of an incoming signal dominating her headphones but no message coming through. "Starbuck?" She tried, trying to clear the channel. "Starbuck, is that you?" Admiral Adama glanced over from his hushed conversation with Tigh and frowned at the slightly worried tone creeping into Dualla's voice.

"Is something wrong?" He enquired, prompting a few glances from other officers and crew in the CIC to Dualla who was shrugging helplessly at the question. She didn't know. Adama looked at Tigh for a moment and moved over to the side of Dualla's station, leaning in so the conversation wouldn't carry. "What's happening?" he asked softly.

"I don't know, sir," she confessed. "The channel is just-_frak!_" She scrabbled at her headphones and pressed one side against her head as several things happened. The message finished, Kara Thrace gunned her Viper through the flight pod, and Anastasia Dualla went pale. "Please repeat?"

001100010010011110100001101101110011

Jack O'Neill shot Sam a look as the message came over the bridge speakers of the _Odyssey_ sounding a little distorted. She gave him a look and shook her head. "I'm sorry sir; I can't clear it up any more than I already have." Jack nodded in acceptance and pressed the button on his armrest that opened the channel again, speaking clearly and enunciating his words with almost insulting carefulness.

"This is General Jack O'Neill of the Earth ship _Odyssey._ Please respond." He lifted his finger off the button and the overlaid crackle of the bridge speakers died to a faint buzz. "Looks like we surprised them a bit," he commented.

"Well you have to admit, they probably weren't expecting to hear from anybody else. We are cloaked, and the planet is dead." Daniel was leaning over the back of Sam's chair as he spoke and looking out the bridge viewport, with Mitchell standing just behind and to the side of him. Jack frowned and turned to his left, spotting Vala lounging against the wall by the entrance to the bridge.

"Where's T?" he asked, looking back to his right to where Daniel and Mitchell had turned their heads a little and were looking slightly to the side of Jack's chair. "Ah," he said in realisation. "Behind me." He was interrupted from continuing that line of thought when the channel again crackled.

"_Odyssey_, this is _Galactica_ Actual." There was a momentary pause. "We regret to inform you that the planet has been rendered uninhabitable." Even over the radio Jack could tell it was a voice of authority simply from the tone of it. Though the second part of the message sounded more like an attempt to open a dialog for lack of a better thing to say. Jack pressed down his new favourite button and began to speak.

"We just discovered that ourselves, _Galactica_. We were on a long term mission..."

The CIC was almost deathly quiet as the transmission was relayed over the speakers, Adama looking up a little towards the ceiling and the source of the sound as he listened, a large and bulky radio in his hand. "...a long term mission of several decades. We, uh, need to conduct repairs caused by a faulty jump and need raw materials." The transmission suddenly cut off for several seconds, almost before the speaker had completed his sentence.

The delay continued and Adama was just about to respond when another voice came over the speakers instead. "Ah, this is Doctor Daniel Jackson. What the General is trying to say is that I'm sure we can find ways where we can help each other. We think it would be a good idea to meet in person."

Adama looked over at Tigh, who was standing over Lt. Gaeta and his DRADIS console. The XO simply shook his head, indicating that if the ship was out there they couldn't see them. He looked grim, and his eyes told Adama everything he needed to know on the opinion of his second in command. Trick. Adama looked indecisive. He would like to take Colonial One aboard _Galactica_ but to do so risked interception, as did communicating with the Vipers on the CAP. He decided to take a risk.

"_Odyssey_," he began. "We cannot detect you on DRADIS. How do we know this isn't a trick?" There was another long pause, and this one stretched over the half minute mark until the reply finally came through. Adama entertained the idea they were out of DRADIS range and the messages were taking time to travel back and forth, but the quick reply from earlier shot down that theory. The speakers suddenly crackled again, the voice of the General again this time.

"_Galactica_, we are deactivating our stealth systems. Stand by." Adama looked over to Tigh again, who turned to the DRADIS screen. Moments later there was a beep and Gaeta suddenly spoke.

"We have a DRADIS contact...It's only eight hundred meters off the bow!" Adama's head whipped around at that. There was no way any ship should have been able to hide there without being detected by DRADIS, let alone the Vipers, no matter how much stealth plating they had or ECM they were putting out.

"Get Starbuck on the line," he ordered before lifting the radio to his mouth again. "_Odyssey_, we see you. I am not authorised to allow a meeting, but I will discuss it with our President. _Galactica _Actual out." Adama glanced at Dualla, who was looked back and nodded as the speakers died and shifted to Kara's backup frequency.

"Kara, are you there?" There was a momentary pause before the reply came through.

"I'm here, _Galactica_. Do you want a visual on the bogie?"

"It would be appreciated, Starbuck."

"Understood, _Galactica_, I'll have something for you in a few seconds." Admiral Adama took a deep breath as he waited. He could feel a little spark of hope leaping up and down in his chest again after having felt it snuffed out completely less than a day ago. His mind cast back to the bottle of alcohol he was contemplating opening and decided he could put it off for another day.

In her Viper Kara Thrace nudged the stick down a little as she cruised along the side of _Galactica_ at a slow pace, having been staying out of sight and (hopefully) DRADIS range of the new ship. It only took a few more seconds and the _Odyssey_ came into sight around the nose of _Galactica_. Kara thumbed open her comm and spoke. "_Galactica_, I see her."

"Describe it, Starbuck." The reply was almost instant, giving her the impression that Admiral Adama was holding the radio and had his focus on it. No pressure.

"Ah...it has a long neck jutting out from the centre of the main bulk, making up around half the length, and I estimate it to be four hundred and a half to six hundred meters long in total with a thin profile. I can't see any real armor, and...frak, are those windows?"

In the CIC of _Galactica_ Adama leaned over to Tigh, who had removed himself from the DRADIS screen and to the Admiral's side. "Well that rules it out being a military ship," Adama commented, "but best to be sure." He cleared his throat with a small coughing sigh. "Starbuck, do you see any weapons?"

Starbuck leaned a little for her left to get a better look and almost completely killed the forward momentum of her Viper with some fine thruster control, but making sure she could accelerate at a moment's notice. She would be damned if she was shot down because she was going too slow and close to an unknown ship. "I think so, _Galactica._ It looks like they have turrets...but they look too small to do any damage to anything but a few of the civilian ships. I think they must be for fighter suppressant. Maybe some sort of flak cannon."

Adama frowned, tapping his finger lightly against the transmit button of his handheld radio without actually pressing it. He was already taking the decade long mission with a grain of salt, but a windowed ship with weaponry didn't match up with any sort of logic he ever heard. Windows were just asking to cripple a ship with a single strike. They were a liability, compromising armour for something completely unessential. "Starbuck," he began. "Do you see anything else at all? Missiles launchers, fighter tubes?"

Kara rolled her Viper slightly and looked over her left shoulder to get a better view, noting the hatch-like boxes along the neck of the ship. "I think I might have something _Galactica_. There are fourteen...no, make that sixteen hatches along the neck of the ship. I think they might be missile tubes."

"Maybe a strike ship? We know how effective those stealth systems are." Tigh murmured, and Adama considered the idea. Such a ship could jump in behind enemy lines or near a supply base. They could get close without attracting attention from any battleships, when launch a salvo of nukes and jump away before they were engaged by anything slower than fighters, which would explain the small turrets.

"Sir?" Adama was distracted from his response to Tigh and next question when Gaeta spoke up. "The President is demanding an explanation and _Colonial One_ is moving to dock." Adama nodded to indicate he had heard.

"Bring it in and take the President to the situation room. Inform her I'll be there shortly." He pondered for a moment before again pressing 'transmit' and broadcasting to Kara's Viper. "Do you see anything else, Starbuck?"

"Affirmative, _Galactica_," Kara said, her eyes having left the correctly identified missile hatches moments ago and had since been firmly fixated towards the back of the _Odyssey_. "I think I'm looking at a pair of hangers, one on either side of the main hull. Judging by the size of them they look more like they could only launch ships in a battle situation, not receive them. I don't recognise anything else, though."

"Understood, Starbuck. _Galactica_ out." Adama put down the looked to Tigh, who gave him the facial equivalent of a helpless shrug. "Alright," the Admiral said evenly. "Lt. Gaeta, is _Colonial One_ aboard?"

"Coming in now, sir," the Lieutenant confirmed.

"Then I need to brief the President. Call me the moment anything happens." Adama left without another word, leaving Tigh just standing there.

"Frak me," Tigh whispered, before he picked up the radio and began issuing orders to the CAP.

001100010010011110100001101101110011

"Is it just me?" Mitchell asked, "Or are there a lot more fighters out there than there were a few minutes ago?" O'Neill had noticed as well, as had Carter.

"Well them not shooting at us is a good sign, right?" Vala asked.

"Indeed." Teal'c rumble made Jack start as he realised the Jaffa hadn't even moved from his position behind the chair in the last thirty minutes of silence.

"Geez Teal'c. Just...don't stand behind me like that, okay?" There was no verbal response, but Jack heard the soft noise of the Jaffa moving away. Though he was almost positive he probably got one of those 'raised eyebrow' looks in the process.

"You know Carter, I've been thinking." Sam looked up from her console and over at the General to indicate she was listening. O'Neill shifted a little. "If we can make anything with that new Asgard beaming constructor thing-"

"-Universal assembler, sir-"

"Right, universal assember...can't we make ZPMs?" There was a momentary pause, and Jack got the sinking feeling that Carter was trying to phrase why it didn't work in terms he would understand. "You know if it wouldn't work you could just say so, Carter." He sounded a little grumpy.

"I'm sorry sir," she apologized. "But when we first got Asgard beaming technology the scientists at Area 51 tried a similar idea. They just ended up with depleted copies of the ZPM they were using as a template. You see a ZPM essentially has access to an unlimited amount of energy, only limited by how much it can safely channel and increasing entropy-"

"Ack!" he cried, "Carter!" Her face fell a little as she realised what she was doing, despite often being warned not to launch into explanations in that much detail with O'Neill, who hated unnecessary complexity.

"Sorry sir," she apologized again, looking a little embarrassed. "Essentially the attempts ended with them trying to build their own ZPM. It was the size of a small building and only operated for three seconds before it burned out permanently. As far as I know they're still working on it."

"Hmph." Jack let out a dissatisfied sigh. It had been a good idea as well. "So, no response from out there yet?" Carter shook her head.

"Well, you have to admit they probably weren't expecting us." Daniel's comment provoked nothing more than a grunt from O'Neill, and the archaeologist just cut his losses and didn't say anything more.

Jack sighed and looked over to Carter, who was once again engrossed in something technical. "What are you doing, Carter?" She looked over at him distractedly for a moment.

"To be honest sir, I'm not sure how I want to do things. At the moment I'm specifically designating energy flow to key systems from the main conduit. Usually power is equally distributed through all the conduits, so energy loss wouldn't be a problem. Right now though to get maximum hyperdrive power I need to actually manually use the least damaged conduits specifically for the hyperdrive and-" she broke off and gave O'Neill an weak smile. "I'm trying to make the ship run more efficiently, sir."

"See, was that so hard to say?" Jack took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Anything else?"

"Well I still have to see if the Asgard core has a dialling program, otherwise we might have to drop by an uninhabited planet and take a DHD so we can activate the Stargate. At the moment it's just sitting in the starboard hanger bay. Along with that I'm not sure whether I can replicate the conditions that brought us here in the first place. Not without a much greater control over the hyperspace field."

O'Neill sat up a little at that, looking horrified. "Are you saying we might be stuck here?" Carter just looked at him with that apologetic expression. O'Neill groaned and put his head in his hands. "Please, please, _please_ tell me we are not going to be stuck here."

"I'm sorry, sir." She said softly. "I might find something, but it isn't looking good." O'Neill was about to deliver a reply to that when the radio suddenly crackles, automatically relayed to the bridge speakers. Moments later the crackle dimmed and the voice of Admiral Adama replaced it.

"_Odyssey_, this is _Galactica_ Actual. I have arranged a meeting with our President. You may send a three person party with no weapons to _Galactica's_ port flight pod. If you are unable to meet these conditions because of a lack of craft we can send a Raptor to pick you up. Do you copy?" O'Neill gestured to Sam to get her attention and leaned over his armrest to speak.

"Carter, don't we have that Puddle Jumper in the starboard hanger?" he whispered. Sam looked a little confused for a moment.

"Sir you do realise we aren't transmitting yet?" O'Neill paused for a moment, his head turning and eyes moving momentarily to the transmit button on his other armrest.

"Right," he said in a normal voice, as if he had only just realised it. "But we have the Puddle Jumper, right?" Carter thought for a split second then nodded. Jack leaned back and grinned in satisfaction, jabbing his finger down on the button. "_Galactica_, this is _Odyssey_. We agree and will be sending a...shuttle over to the agreed location."

It only took a moment for the reply to come back. "We copy, _Odyssey_. Be advised that any deviation from the agreed terms will result in the destruction of your ship." There was a crackle then the transmission cut off with an air of finality.

"Love you too," O'Neill grumbled sarcastically, standing up. "Come on, Daniel. Let's meet and greet. Carter...just keep working on getting us home, oh and Marks?" The Major, who had been dutifully working and keeping up to date with the shifting fighter groups all around the _Odyssey_ looked up.

"Yes sir?" he asked, keeping one eye on his screen. Jack approvingly noted that the shield generators were active and ready to deploy the protective shell at a moment's notice.

"Keep monitoring us. If any of us so much as get a hangnail I want to be beamed out." He paused and clarified. "And the others, too." He could have sworn for a moment he saw Marks smile.

"Aye, sir," Marks acknowledged, bringing up a new subsystem on his screen and setting a lifesigns alert in case the General or anybody else in the party was injured. O'Neill was again approving and impressed. That man could multitask. Then again he had been a lieutenant only two years ago. It had taken O'Neill most of a decade to make that much progress.

"I want to come!" Jack slowly turned until he was looking squarely at Vala, who had stepped forward. She noted the stares and looked defensive. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Daniel said. "But you want us to bring you to what is probably going to be a delicate negotiation?" Vala nodded stubbornly. "The last time we were in a situation with high ranking members of government you implied that they just wanted to build big ships to compensate for-"

"Yes, yes" O'Neill said hurriedly. "Thank you, Daniel." He just looked Vala up and down for a moment. "No, you can't come. Teal'c can, though. Come on, big guy." With a beckoning wave to Teal'c the General walked out of the bridge, followed by Daniel. Teal'c paused long enough to give Vala a tilt of the head that to her seemed a bit smug, making her huff and lean against the bulkhead, crossing her arms.

The trip down to the hanger was mercifully short, most of it spent in silence. Daniel was no doubt preoccupied with the upcoming negotiations, Teal'c was being...stoic...and Jack had a rather bored and impatient look on his face. His only comment the entire time was related to how they needed some elevator music.

The elevator shuddered to a halt and there was a pneumatic hiss for the briefest of moments as the air-tight seal disengaged and the heavy reinforced doors whirred apart, powerful motors dragging them open. From there it was just a short walk to the starboard hanger, where O'Neill swiped his card. Though most of the ship worked on the principle that if you were already aboard you could go where you liked a few areas were limited to authorised personnel. Engineering and the hangers were the most obvious, though the missile bays were also restricted.

The doors opened and they were greeted by the sight of the eight strong F302 complement of the starboard hanger. There was plenty of room left in the hanger, but even with superior manoeuvring capabilities the fighters still needed room to emerge from their berths and taxi the short distance to a take-off position. But it was the contents of the rear of the hanger that caught the eye.

The dark and dull green cylinder of the Ancient built Puddle Jumper was one, the small shuttle containing enough advanced technology to make any techie drool. It could only be operated by somebody with the ATA gene, a little hand me down from Ancients who interbred with primitive humanity after fleeing Atlantis. Jack O'Neill had one of the stronger genes, but it still took effort to do anything, whether it was launching thousands of fleet-destroying drone weapons or flying a simple ship.

The second and in the eyes of some more interesting piece of technology in the hanger was a large ring propped up against the wall, nine chevrons interspersed along the circumference of the device. The twenty two foot diameter of the Stargate made it look rather impressive, and Jack couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia at the sight of it. He smacked a button on the back of the Puddle Jumper and the back detached, a hatch slowly lowering to allow access to the hollow ship.

"You know," Jack commented, still looking at the Stargate, "It would make a good wall hanging, don't you think? Even if it does weigh a ton."

"I do believe the Stargate in fact weighs thirty two tons, O'Neill." Teal'c corrected, though his face was even more stoic than usual, which made Jack look at him suspiciously for a moment, trying to detect whether it was a joke or not as the hatch hit the deck and they climbed aboard.

"Thank you Teal'c. It's a figure of speech." Jack retorted as he sat down and laid his hands on the controls of the Jumper, squeezing his eyes shut in visible concentration as he dropped into the seat. Daniel took the co-pilots seat, despite being incapable of flying. The General was rewarded as the panel lit up blue and Jumper powered up with a gentle hum, the hatch closing as Teal'c hit the control.

"It might make a good wall hanging at first, Jack," Daniel commented. "But your opinion might change when the Goa'uld gate into your living room." The Jumper turned to face the opening hanger doors, Marks or whoever was in charge apparently anticipating their needs. The blue, undulating and transparent shimmer of an Asgard forcefield contained the breathable air while it was decompressed in a controlled manner.

O'Neill cast his eyes over the controls for a moment before giving up and just turning the radio headset in his left ear on. "_Odyssey_, this is Jumper One. Do you read?"

"Jumper One, this is _Odyssey_." Marks' voice came over the radio loud and clear. "You are clear to go. Lowering forcefield." There was a momentary flicker as the shield keeping the air in completely vanished, and the Jumper smoothly accelerated out of the hanger, the engine pods unfolding from the body of the ship and lighting up a whitish blue.

Daniel leaned forward and looked out the front window, craning his head. "Looks like we have escorts. Two of those fighters." He looked over at Jack, who was staring straight ahead at the looming flightpod, the long tunnel-like landing strip the only thing on his mind. The last thing he wanted to do what _think_ about how to take out those fighters if they attacked just to have the Ancient technology helpfully interpret his forward contingency planning as an order to do just that. Then the radio crackled, Major Marks' voice coming over. "Jumper One, I'm transferring you over to _Galactica_. They need to walk you through the landing sequence."

"Roger that, _Odyssey_." O'Neill almost completely killed his forward momentum in less than a second, leaving the two escorting Vipers to shoot past them. The crackle seemed to deepen, and Jack frowned. It usually indicated that the transmission was degraded, but that slight distortion seemed to be the norm for communications from the gigantic Battlestar.

"Jumper One, this is _Galactica_. We need to walk you through the landing procedures. Approach the landing bay from aft at a slow speed..."

001100010010011110100001101101110011

William Adama, Laura Roslin and Lee Adama stood side by side as the elevator finally stopped, leaving the oddly shaped shuttle in front of them. The Admiral of the fleet, the President of the Twelve Colonies and the former President and delegate to the Quorum was an imposing sight for anybody well acquainted with the political landscape. Unfortunately everybody acquainted with the political landscape were elsewhere, most entirely unaware of the visit from the _Odyssey_. The only people in the hanger bay at the moment were the three and a detachment of six marines, fingers on triggers.

The eyes of Admiral Adama cast over the ship, nothing that while the overall shape was smooth, the hull of the shuttle had blocky protrusions in an overall pattern, and he couldn't see any obvious means of propulsion or exit from his angle, the engine pods having retracted when Jumper One set down on the elevator in the landing bay. There were, thankfully, no obvious weapons.

Lee Adama was having similar thoughts, though his were less militarily oriented and was running over the political ramifications of survivors from the Thirteenth Tribe. It was always possible that Earth may have been destroyed but colonies lived on out there. Possible, but deep down in his heart he suspected that wasn't the case.

Laura Roslin wasn't thinking much at all, her thoughts seemingly fogged with anticipation with her usually razor-sharp mind quiet. She didn't feel tired anymore, and her lips tugged up into a practised smile as there was a sudden whirring and a low hum as the rear hatch of the shuttle in front of them began to descend. "Here we go," she whispered. Admiral Adama looked over at her and smiled faintly himself before assuming a practiced face of his own.

"You look much better," he murmured, leaning over slightly towards her, so only she could hear.

"I stopped my Doloxan treatments," she replied, before straightening up as the first figure emerged from the back of the shuttle. Adama's smile had suddenly become fixed.

"We'll talk about this later," he said in a low voice before stepping forward to greet the new arrivals, hand extended. He was surprised when he was cut off by the apparent leader, who was wearing what appeared to be a simple jumpsuit, not so dissimilar to the sort worn by maintence crews for the Vipers.

"Permission to come aboard?" the first man asked, sounding remarkably cheerful. Adama blinked in surprise.

"Permission granted," he said, hand still extended. It was taken in a firm grip, and then Adama's eyes firmly locked with those of the man in front of him. It continued for several moments in which there was dead silence, giving the impression that they were both weighing the other. Then the man smiled.

"Major General Jack O'Neill. You have an impressive ship."

"She has been through hell and back," Adama said gruffly, already warming a little to the man in front of him.

"Most good ships have," O'Neill said quietly, before releasing his grip and gesturing to the men on each side of him. "This is Doctor Daniel Jackson on my left." Jackson leaned forward and shook Adama's hand in greeting with a 'pleased to meet you'. "And the tall silent type on my right is Teal'c."

"It is an honour to meet you," the tall man known as Teal'c rumbled.

"Thank you," Adama said automatically. "I am Admiral William Adama, commander of _Galactica_, and this is our President, Laura Roslin." Laura gave them a smile and stepped forward, greeting each in turn with the skill and practice of a politician. Jackson seemed particularly enthused, while O'Neill's response was muted, which Adama noted. "And this is my son and delegate to the Quorum, Lee Adama."

"Pleased to meet you all," Lee said amiably, but did not step forward for a handshake with anybody.

"Please," Adama said. "Follow us. We will be meeting in my office." With that he turned to leave, the marines separating to allow him and the others passage.

"Normally we would have a meeting like this on _Colonial One_," Roslin commented, "But we want to avoid the press and Quorum at the moment." Jack made a noncommittal sound, noting the locations of the marines, their weapons and general demeanour. He had no doubt Teal'c was doing the same thing.

"Oh don't worry, we just _love_ politicians," O'Neill said, trying to sound sincere and utterly failing.

"Jack." Daniel's warning didn't fall on deaf ears for once, and the General stopped talking.

"From the exterior this vessel appears to have sustained damage." Teal'c observation didn't go unreplied to, Lee Adama turning back a little to look at them. So far the corridors had been remarkably clear, marines clearing the way and bringing up the rear.

"_Galactica_ was going to be a museum ship," Lee explained. "But when the Cylons attacked she became the only combat-ready ship that wasn't destroyed or lost." There was a momentary silence.

"So, yeah..." O'Neill trailed off then asked the question. "What are Cylons?"

001100010010011110100001101101110011

**And now review reply time! I can't get through quite all these and not end up repeating myself, so I'll reply to those that brought up issues or ideas as well as those that really caught my attention. I gotta say, some of these really drove me to keep going, despite how horribly difficult writing some of this ended up being.**

**Loneranger – **Unfortunately I have come to the conclusion that bringing in Atlantis is gonna be mostly impossible, and I think that the main friction in the story will now come from the sudden reliance the Colonials and Rebel Cylons may suddenly find themselves having on the _Odyssey_. It ain't gonna be pretty.

**JovianJeff – **Never let it be said I don't aim to please. The shipping will be at show levels, and show levels only. But I'm really trying to address most of the concerns with other possibilities as they come up naturally in the plot, and my idea for where this story is going has continually evolved over the last few weeks. But at the moment most of this is in the far future...i.e. a couple of months. Maybe.

**Dur'id the Druid** – Tough luck! I'll include however much I want! ^.^ But seriously, at least we got to the contact this time, which I think it going to be toughest bit overall.

**KeiranHalycon – **I think the Earthlings are gone from this universe...unless you count the slaves the Goa'uld transplanted. As the for the ZPM nitpick...yeah, I have to agree. I exaggeratted there, and it doesn't match up. Though it is worth noting that for the sort of alloy/heavy metals making up the _Odyssey_ creating it would take 100s of times more energy than making air.

**Bookofmagic – **Your review actually got my thinking. Maybe there is a ZPM in Egypt because they went back in time here as well to get it? *gasp* Maybe their meddling caused the destruction of Earth in this timeline! We can only wonder...the ZPM might have been destroyed in the nuclear bombardment, and they will never know what horrors they have created.

**Rydan** – I actually considered much of that, but came to the conclusion that actually creating racks for all those drones, as well as rigging a launching system that didn't require the Ancient chair...just wouldn't really add much to the story, and it seems a bit of a stretch. There will be a conflict with the Goa'uld...mainly because the team WILL need something deep inside Goa'uld territory to get the ZPMs they ARE going to need later in the story. Can anybody guess what it is? :P

**Reagan - **You neatly summed up how the Asgard assembler works. It needs energy to run(or create materials out of nothing) and materials to break down into molecules and atoms. As for the technology to give _Galactica_, the SG1 crew are going to need their help for some of the objectives they need to meet.

**SG1 Fan – **You either get longer chapters or it keeps on coming. You don't get both.

**Tpx1 – **It was mentioned that the gate had been beamed up last chapter, but I guess it was easy to miss. As for most of your other ideas, some are just too impractical, while others may be quite important later on to secure _Galactica's_ help for some of the more...dangerous things.

**Andrewjameswestwood – **I'm glad it is a considerable improvement, though I'm not sure how it is. I would love to know just what set it apart and made it better, so I can hopefully capitalize on it. And I thought Jack would have been the obvious choice for the _Odyssey_ as well, and I found that really bothered me when I was considering using a lead-on from Unending for Daughter of Atlas.

As for why it was Moscow that is really up to you. It could have been coincidence, or the Goa'uld may have been seeking to weaken Earth before the strike...a plan which came back to bite him in the ass when it annihilated itself.

**TheModernPrometheus** **– **Hmm...I'm not sure what the matchup between Vipers and Death gliders will be. We know the Jaffa are meant to be crack troops, but we all know that in reality they are the stormtroopers of Stargate.

**BlackLionness – **Character portrayals and conversations are actually really difficult, so they proved to be a major stumbling block for this chapter especially. I just hope they turn out alright. Thanks for another review!

**Gtamaniac – **The show never has said how far the BSG jumpdrives can go, and it is rather annoying...

**Valiran – **Damn, I keep catching myself doing that, then I have to correct it. Guess I must have missed one.

**Bhoy – **Unfortunately that isn't going to happen, no matter how entertaining it might be...*sigh*

**Mwalker – **Thanks for the compliment! Ra/System Lords will play a role in the story, if only as an obstacle to be overcome so they can get to their real objective...and the Replicators will play a role, but not the Asgard ones. This harks back to what SG1 is going to need that is deep in Goa'uld territory...

**Thanks, and if you want to read more, remember to review! It isn't much fun just writing to nobody out there...**

_**I, Sayle, do solemnly swear to review all the fics I enjoy, regardless of the number of reviews, its age, or anything else.**_


End file.
